Running Wild
by A Dreamweaver
Summary: In order to help Glory, Doc promises to remove Spike's chip if he finds a way to kill Buffy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The divinations read disaster. Whatever method Doc used. Tarot, crystal, bones, ink bowl—it didn't matter. The result was always the same: defeat of Glorificus by the Slayer.

Worse, all he could see was that there would be a defeat, not how or where or why. There were so many variables that he couldn't get a firm glimpse of what needed to be adjusted to change that outcome. Everything was in flux, the future wavering and shifting like smoke. Usually he could get a clear idea of the various forks in the road and what had to be done to steer the future to the path that he wanted. He was good at that. He had power and centuries of knowledge in how to use it. Doc wasn't the quiet little old man that he appeared at first glance.

But Glorificus was a god. And that interfered with prescience. The actions and paths of a god were unknowable, could not be guessed at. The whims of deities were utterly unpredictable. And Glorificus was particularly volatile. Unlike her pathetic little minions he knew precisely what she was—the Beast, a force of Chaos, destructive beyond measure. He worshiped her for exactly that. She would tear down worlds without number in her rage to become the supreme being, bring chaos crashing down over innumerable dimensions. Doc adored her for that. An infinity of chaos! The way it should have been, had been before light and order had come into existence and poisoned everything.

But the auguries said she would fail. The Slayer would defeat her. That could not be allowed to happen. Somehow the Slayer had to be eliminated.

The tap on the door that he had been expecting finally came. He smiled tightly and pushed away the cards. The vampire was late of course, but Doc had known he would be. The vampire was making a statement: that he wasn't to be summoned, that he was nobody's man. But the bait Doc had thrown out had been enough to at least draw him here.

"It's always open," Doc called.

No invitation needed for a vampire to enter a demon's abode. William the Bloody strolled in with his patented swagger, black leather duster flaring, bleached white hair glinting in the dim light. He glanced warily about the room, at the ancient furniture, the untidy mess of books and papers, the little old man sitting in his bathrobe at the table.

"You wanted to see me."

"I need half an hour of your time." Doc tossed a thin plaque of gold the dimensions of a credit card onto the table. "Payment as promised."

The vampire came over and picked it up. He looked it over narrowly, then nodded abruptly and shoved it into his pocket.

"Right then. Wanna tell me why my time's worth that much to you?"

"Sit down and we'll have a nice chat. Would you like some cocoa?"

Spike hooked a chair towards him with his foot, then sprawled into it. "No."

"Don't trust me?"

"No."

"I mean you no harm. How about some tea? I'm afraid I've got nothing stronger. It clouds the mind."

Spike gave him a sardonic look. "Don't need the cover up for me, mate. Nothing clouds your mind."

"You know about me then."

"Do now. Bought your rep before. Dim little small-town bloke messing around with the books and the witchy stuff." He lifted his brows meaningfully at the tomes and cards scattered about the ancient manual typewriter on the table. "Then your message came and I asked around about you. Seems you've got more talents than what's on display."

"Cautious," Doc said with an approving nod. "And you knew where to ask too."

The vampire shrugged. "Have my sources."

"The Hadraden. Their boss man, Louth, was it?"

The vampire said nothing either to confirm or deny, just watched him with half-lidded eyes.

"I wouldn't want you to reveal your sources." But it bothered Doc that the vampire didn't. That hinted at an unwelcome soft spot. A demon who exhibited tendencies like honor and loyalty and other weaknesses like that couldn't be trusted. But William the Bloody was the only demon who could get close to the Slayer. "He's the only one who knows about me. But it's immaterial. I'm glad you did, young man. It makes this easier."

"Makes what easier?"

"I want you to tell me about the Slayer."

The vampire frowned. "The Slayer? What's to tell? She's still alive. That shows she's good at her job. What else is there to know?"

"Her weaknesses."

The scarred eyebrow lifted. The vampire's eyes were very blue and cold, unfathomable. Doc could see that he was thinking, but not what his thoughts were.

"Professionally, none. She's fast, she's deadly and she's bloody good."

"Better than you?"

Spike smiled tightly. "No."

"Then why is she still alive? You've had plenty of opportunities to take her out."

Spike's lips compressed into a thin, hard line. "Stinking, rotten luck is why. And now I got this buggering chip up my brain. Can't lay a finger on her. So if that's what you called me here for, you're shit out of luck."

"Mm." Doc chewed that over. "What about private weaknesses?"

The vampire sneered. "Privately, she's pathetic. Got bleeding tragic taste in men. Her third just choppered out of here a while back." He tilted a scornful brow at Doc. "But you won't get at her that way."

"What happened?"

"With the third one? Didn't have enough monster in him, so couldn't keep up with her. Tried to get his balls back by getting suck jobs from vampire trulls. She found out."

"Oh, now there was a missed opportunity, wasn't there? One of them could have turned him." Doc sighed. "Pity. She would never have expected him to be a vampire and he might have taken her out."

"Nah. He'd have just got dusted. No brains in Captain Cardboard. Just gonads and not much of those either."

Doc gave him a shrewd look. "You're the one who told her about him, aren't you?" He saw the betraying flicker in the vampire's eyes. "You must have enjoyed that. Only way you could cut her up, with that chip in your head. Nice move."

Spike glanced down at the lighter he was turning around and around in his fingers. A diagonal muscle jumped in his cheek. "Yeah."

"It's a shame I didn't know about that sooner. We could have coordinated that. She'd have been vulnerable at some point there and I'd have gotten her even if you couldn't."

"Don't fool yourself. She's hard to kill. Why are you after the Slayer? Aside from the usual dark vs light bit?"

"Do you know about Glorificus?"

"Latest Big Bad. Hellgod. Got a bunch of bottom-feeders all worked up worshiping her. Yeah, I know about Glory."

Doc gave him a cold look. "Not all her worshipers are bottom-feeders, young man."

"You one of them then? Should have known. Me Mum always told me not to bring up politics or religion, but I keep forgetting. Didn't mean to step on a corn there, but, hey," Spike grinned nastily, "that's what I do. So. The Slayer causing Her Godliness some problems?"

"The divinations say that the Slayer will defeat her."

Spike laughed. "Yeah, little Miss Tiny does have a habit of bollixing up the plans of every would-be unstoppable badass who sets foot in this town."

"I need her taken out of the equation."

"So would everybody. But that's not easy. Heard about what went down last year with Mr. Bits? He ended up interestingly dead. So has everyone else who's run up against her so far."

"Except you. You can get close to her. She doesn't think you're a threat anymore because of that chip in your head. She wouldn't be expecting it."

"And because of that chip, I wouldn't be able to do it. Stalemate."

"What if I made it possible for you to kill her?"

The vampire was watching him intently. The blue eyes were guarded and unreadable, but there was a yellow flicker deep within them that told Doc that he was not as unmoved as he pretended to be.

"What's in it for me?"

"I thought you'd want to kill her."

"Out of the evilness of my heart? You having a geriatric moment, Doc? Demon here. Don't do things for anybody else's benefit."

Doc chuckled approvingly. "Have to respect that. I'd like her dead, but I can understand that such an achievement could be difficult. All I want is to have her out of the picture for a while until Glorificus is successful. If you can do even that, you'd be rewarded. What would you like? I could remove that chip. How about that?"

There was a ringing silence. Then Spike laughed scornfully.

"Yeah, right. Like I haven't been there before. Mr. Bits put the same proposition to me last year and guess what? I got screwed over. Not gonna fall for that again."

"You want it," Doc said swiftly as the vampire stood up.

"'Course I do. But I ain't gonna get it, am I? Thought you had some kind of a plan, that's why I stuck around to listen. But you've got nothing. You're dumping it all on me. Take her out of the picture? How? Kidnap her or something? Me with this chip in my head, I'm gonna do that? Yeah, right. Hire some other demons to jump her? C'mon. If no one's been able to kill her in all these years—and, believe me, some of the best have tried, including me—how are they gonna be able to snatch her? And then to keep her chained up for a couple of months? The _Slayer_? Don't make me laugh. Nothing holds that one for long."

"You're right, young man," said Doc musingly. "I hadn't thought things through. I'm glad we've had this talk. You've clarified a lot for me. Brute force won't work. There has to be another way."

"There isn't." The vampire's eyes were narrowing oddly, their pupils turning into pinpoints. It was a predatory, killer's look that made Doc wary. "Why don't you get your own hands dirty? You've got the mojo. You're capable of death spells. How come you don't just use one?"

"Death spells have a high price," Doc said simply. It was the truth. "Death of a Slayer is the most expensive of all. It would cost me my powers. I too am a demon and I do not sacrifice myself for any one else's benefit, even that of Glorificus. No, no. There must be a better way. Let me think about it. Want in if I come up with something?"

"Always willing to listen. Won't promise more," said Spike curtly and walked out.

* * *

><p>That had been a break, Spike thought. The slip of gold would keep him in blood and smokes for a month, but even more valuable was knowing that Doc was out to get the Slayer. Slayer didn't know about Doc and any move from him would have come out of left field, totally unsuspected. Now they knew to watch out for him.<p>

Might know even more if Doc called him back. It was a good thing that the demon world wasn't aware of the way Spike felt about the Slayer. Demons knew that he helped her kill his own kind every now and then, but they thought he was just straddling the fence, keeping on her good side because the chip made him vulnerable to being staked. They didn't like it and they'd made him an outcast this last year because of it, but they all knew that they would have done the same thing in his place if it were necessary to survive. He'd be welcomed back in the fold if only he went back to the dark side. They knew he was still evil, thought he was just waiting his chance to jump back when the opportunity presented itself. Which was why Doc had called him in.

No one knew that he was in love with the Slayer. Hell, he'd only realized it himself not that long ago. The only person who had guessed so far had been Captain Cardboard. No surprise Finn knew when someone else was planning to move in on his territory. One did. And Captain America was particularly sensitive about that, knowing he didn't have what it takes where the Slayer was concerned, bristling in all directions like the chia pet he was. But that wanker was gone now.

Spike stopped in front of 1630 Revello Drive and looked up at the Slayer's window. He had to tell her about Doc, had to find out whether she was fully aware of what Glory was. She might not know, though it was common knowledge in the demon community. That black and white view of the world that the Slayer and the Watchers' Council shared kept them from using peaceful demons as a resource, though many of those would have been happy to help the Slayer on a _quid pro quo_ basis.

But the demonic lack of a soul meant that the Slayer refused to talk to any demon. That was an enormous blind spot, shared not only by the Slayer and her Watcher, but also by that bunch of losers who surrounded her. They were all blind that way, to the extent that the Scoobies even ignored the invaluable resource that Anya Jenkins was, ex-vengeance demon with a thousand years of experience with the demon world. But Anya hadn't had a soul for those thousand years, so of course they wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. He wondered why Anya put up with it.

Same reason as he, of course. Love. Anya loved Xander Harris, God alone knew why, the way the sod treated her. And God alone knew why he loved the Slayer, the way she treated him. It was the worst thing that could have happened to either him or Anya—this curse called love.

It was long past midnight. He leaned against the oak tree, aware of the Slayer smugly asleep in her bed upstairs. He couldn't disturb her now; he'd tell her about Doc tomorrow, at the Magic Box.

So here he was again, taking up his vigil outside her house, just wanting to be near her, keep her safe. At least she was alone in that bed tonight. He didn't have to listen to Captain Cardboard making love to her, didn't have to know that that wanker was getting what he would never ever have. He'd gotten his taste of hell listening to that. The only thing that had made it even the least bit bearable was knowing that the sod never managed to get her off and didn't even know it. No human would ever be able to get a Slayer off proper.

Which didn't help him out any, since the Slayer didn't know that and sure as hell wasn't going to let him show her different. Should have dusted himself the minute the horrifying realization hit him that he was in love with her. That would have been better than standing around like a pathetic git, taking all the shit she dished out.

And she dished out a lot. Dead petty about it, she was. At the best of times, he never got even the barest courtesy a human stranger on the street would have had from her. But ever since he told her about Captain Cardboard sneaking out on her to go see vamp trulls, things had escalated into pure hatred and venom.

And he had been trying to do her a favor! It would have been a serious danger if Finn had been turned. Which could have happened so easily. Not a danger to her perhaps, but to her Mum or her precious Scoobies, who would all have let Finn get to them since they wouldn't have known he'd been turned.

All right, so it had been payback on Captain Cardboard as well and he had enjoyed that. Wanted her to know what a weak, moronic fool the man was. He had expected her to be angry with Finn. He hadn't expected her to be hurt. Showed the mistakes not having a soul led to. But Doc didn't have a soul and even he had seen what Spike hadn't. _'You must have enjoyed that. Only way you could cut her up...Nice move.' _

Only he hadn't meant to cut her up. Had only meant to cut Cardboard out. But that look of hurt and betrayal in her eyes had cut him instead, right to the heart.

Not that that look had been meant for him, of course. She hadn't been thinking of him, only of Finn. But still Spike was the cause of her finding out and she was never going to forgive him for that. Oh, she'd forgiven Finn right away. That asshole, Harris, had made sure of that, making out that it was all her fault, for God's sake, sending her running after Finn to apologize. As if _she _had anything to apologize for! Thank God the chopper had lifted before she could get there, taking Useless away to Belize or wherever, some place the sod could fuck up somebody else's life.

Best intentions...

He sighed, leaning back against the oak. He was so screwed.

The bunch of them were all in the Magic Box when he barreled in the next day, a blanket over his head to protect himself from the late afternoon sunlight. Five hostile faces turned his way as he stomped out the smouldering edges of the blanket. Only Giles was missing, in the back, Spike guessed; and Dawn wasn't there, probably home with her Mum.

"Slayer. Have to talk to you."

"She doesn't want to talk to you, Evil Dead," Harris snapped.

Spike gave him a disgusted look. He truly despised Harris, who was a wimp version of Riley as far as he was concerned, and Riley had been a serious nothing himself.

"She can't speak for herself?"

"I can speak for myself," Buffy said. Her eyes were icy cold and hating. It hurt, but he didn't let it get to him. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Got some info you need."

"And we don't have the cash. Out."

"Not selling, okay? This one's on the house."

"Which means you're setting us up for a big fall." She shoved him with both hands, sending him staggering back towards the shop door. "Get out."

"No, listen, Slayer. There's this guy called Doc..."

"We don't want to know."

"Slayer..."

She hit him. By now, he was used to her swinging at him, saw the fist coming just in time to turn his head enough that she missed his nose and got him solidly across his right cheekbone instead. Pain exploded behind his right eye from the blow, but it was better than being hit on the nose, which was agony and why she always aimed for it.

"Ow," she said and shook her hand where the knuckles must be stinging from having impacted against his cheekbone.

"Do it again!" said Xander gleefully. "I never get tired of seeing you do that to the gelded vamp! Or I could stake him!"

He was so sick of this. Buffy hitting him like that every time she saw him, Xander making with the death threats and the nasty comments, Riley shoving a plastic stake into his heart...If it wasn't for the chip in his head, he'd have ripped them to shreds the second they laid a hand on him, strewn the pieces right across the country and up the Eastern Seaboard. But that chip in his head let them lay hands on him with impunity and he had no way of fighting back.

The injustice of it suddenly hit him and the anger that he had suppressed for over a year came boiling up.

"Fuck you all," he said with an intensity that silenced them in surprise, then spun on his heel and stalked out, yanking the blanket over his head as he stepped into the sunlight.

Halfway to the sewer entrance, the world slid out from under him.

* * *

><p>He wasn't standing on a sidewalk in Sunnydale anymore. He was standing on a beach beside a vast ocean and the westering sun was right in his face. He yelped involuntarily and spun so that the blanket was between him and the sun's rays.<p>

Then he realized that he hadn't felt even the slightest burning feeling when the sunlight had struck his face. He should at least have felt a faint sting, a vamp's early warning. He caught his breath in surprise, then put a hand cautiously out into the sunlight. Nothing happened.

"What the fuck?"

_'Another dimension,'_ a tiny voice said, an insect buzz in his ear. Doc's voice. _'How about that for getting the Slayer out of the picture? You were right when you said that brute force wouldn't work. But I'd rather she were dead. And you are going to do that for me.'_

"How the bloody hell can I...?"

_'Little pre-recorded message. I can't hear you and after this you won't hear me again, but you're probably asking how you can kill her with that chip in your head.' _Doc's dry voice was smug. _'Chip's gone. I'm giving you your payment right up front. But if you ever want to come back to this world, you'll kill her. I'll know when she's dead and I'll bring you back then. And only then. If you don't, you'll stay in that dimension forever. Goodbye, vampire. Make me proud.'_

Well, well, well.

Spike dropped the blanket and turned around to grin nastily at the sun that couldn't hurt him now. Another dimension meant a different sun.

And no chip! Well, all right! Richard was himself again. He had his rocks back. Thank you, Doc. But don't go counting your chickens yet. Spike wasn't gonna let himself be played. He'd check things out before deciding what to do—and whatever that was, it was going to be for his benefit, no one else's.

"You!" said Buffy furiously behind him. "You did this!"

He turned and saw them all standing behind him—Buffy, Willow, Tara, Anya and Harris. Only Giles was missing. Doc's spell must have focused on the Magic Box and him. He could feel a huge grin forming on his face. He knew his way around strange places and roughing it. He'd traveled the world. But this bunch of cosseted, SoCal, city pussies? They wouldn't have a clue. Oh, this was going to be fun!

"Nah, a guy called Doc did. The one I was trying to tell you about. Maybe you should have listened."

Buffy swung at him.

He had been expecting that. Her usual response to uncertainty: hit out, and for choice hit Spike. He struck the blow aside. Hard. Their forearms clashed painfully and she staggered back, gasping in shock.

"Chip doesn't work here," he said with dangerous softness. He wasn't going to tell her it was gone. She would try to dust him. He'd wait till he was back in their own dimension before he made that public. "Can fight back now. Not gonna be your punching bag anymore, Slayer."

She flashed towards him, furious, but he hit her solidly the minute she came within reach, sending her flying ten feet backwards to fall on her arse in the sand.

"No more playing kick-the-Spike whenever you're in a bad mood, Slayer."

He spun suddenly and caught Xander by the throat as the git threw himself at Spike's back

"I was hoping you'd make a move," Spike grinned. He struck away the stake Xander was waving and hoisted him off his feet by his throat. Xander kicked and struggled, strangling. "God, this feels good! I've been wanting to do this for more than a year."

"Let him go!" Buffy snarled, scrambling to her feet.

"Not yet. Don't try anything, Slayer. My hand's around his throat and I can rip that out faster than you can get to me. And that goes for you too, Red. Try any of your mojo and ooh! He doesn't have a head anymore."

Buffy's fists clenched. "You kill him and there goes your hostage. You're dust the very next second."

"Oh, I know. We've got a standoff. Just wanted to make a point here. You've spent the last year and a half kicking me around, the lot of you. Never hurt you. Couldn't. Didn't even try. But you could hurt me, you fucking brave white hats. So you did. And you enjoyed doing it. Slug me. shove me around, ram plastic stakes into my heart..."

"We never...!"

"Finn did." He looked around at all of them. Buffy was furious, but Tara had flushed red and even Willow was looking uncomfortable. Anya, who as an ex-demon knew what he had had to put up with, was staring down at the sand. "If I'd done that, you'd have called it torture and dusted me for it."

"You're a demon!" Xander snarled, then gasped as Spike's hand tightened on his throat.

"And you act worse than one. What does that say about the lot of you?"

"We're sorry," Tara whispered. "We didn't think."

"You're not listening to him!" Buffy exclaimed. "He's just twisting things around!"

"Y-you do keep beating up on him for n-nothing, Buffy."

"Tara!" Buffy had flushed bright red. She looked around at all of them and saw that they were all avoiding her eyes, except for Xander who was too busy strangling. She bit her lip. "All right. What do you want, Spike?"

"Nothing. Not one bloody thing. I know you, Slayer. A truce between us is not possible. At some point, this asshole here will convince you that the only right thing to do is to stake me. So I'm giving you fair warning. Gonna be on guard. Gonna be watching for you to try. And if you do, I won't bother fighting you, Slayer. I'll rip the throat out of one of your pets here. You won't be able to protect them all."

"I'll dust you first!"

"You'd better. You'd better be sure if you make a move on me. You miss and one of them dies."

They stared at each other with cold and angry eyes, both furious.

"All right," she said tightly. "You've made your point. Now let him go."

Spike looked up at Xander strangling in his grip. "Love to rip your lungs out, wanker. But you're not worth the hassle."

He flung Xander deliberately far out over the waves. Xander flopped into five feet of cold salt water, went under, then struggled up, gasping and clutching at his bruised throat. Spike flashed warily sideways with his vampire speed twenty feet along the beach, then checked to see where Buffy was. She hadn't moved. He nodded curtly.

"Finally getting some sense, are you? Good."

She looked at him grimly. "Where are we and why are we here?"

Spike shrugged and hooked a hip onto a boulder. "Where? Another dimension. That's all I know. Why? Because that guy called Doc I tried to tell you about is on the side of your latest Big Bad."

"Glory?"

He nodded. "Seems she's a hellgod and he worships her. Looked in a crystal ball or something and found you'd defeat her, so wants you out of her way."

"Great. We've got to get back to Sunnydale!"

"Ya think?"

Buffy looked at Willow and Tara. "The two of you are all into the witchy. Could you find a way to get us back?"

"I don't know." Willow was looking helpless. "We don't have our spell books or any ingredients. Nothing at all..."

"I've got some stuff." Tara started digging around in the huge bag she had over her shoulder. "I have this notebook with some spells I've jotted down that I found interesting and wanted to remember. M-maybe we can cook something up out of them."

"Do that tomorrow," said Spike. "We're gonna be here a while. Might be better to find food and shelter before getting into complicated magics."

"It must have been a portal," Willow objected. "If it is, then it opens right here where we are. If we can just find a way to open it again, we won't have to stay here."

"That Doc. Word is he's a pro. Not gonna be easy," said Spike. "Not much of the day left and it's clouding over. Looks like rain. Suggest you sods re-examine your priorities."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Spike!" Buffy exclaimed. "You're not helping!"

"Maybe that's what he's here for," Xander said suddenly. He had clawed his way out of the surf and was now on his hands and knees on the wet sand, glaring at Spike. "To not help. I mean, what's he doing here? I can see why this Doc guy sent us here, but what about him? He's no threat to Glory."

They all stared at Spike. Spike pulled out his smokes, counted them carefully, then put them back into his pocket.

"Better start rationing those," he remarked to himself.

"You've got a way back, haven't you?" Buffy said slowly.

"No."

"You're lying!" Xander snarled, staggering to his feet threateningly.

Spike flicked him a scornful glance. "Want another lesson, wanker?"

"Xander's right." Buffy looked around for the stake Xander had dropped, then snatched it up from where it lay on the sand where Spike had struck it. "You're no danger to Glory, but you are a danger to us, especially when your chip doesn't work in this dimension. That's it, isn't it? You're here to make sure we don't get back! You're here to take us out!"

Spike said nothing for a moment. Then he shook his head ruefully. "Always think the worst, don't you, Slayer?"

"Because it makes sense!"

"Nobody's puppet here. Maybe that's what he wanted, but I'm not gonna do it."

"Sure you're not!"

"I'm not. Want me to swear? I swear I won't hurt you."

There was a small silence.

"I believe him," Tara said suddenly.

"I don't!" yelled Xander.

"Except for Harris." Spike gave him a cold smile. "I'll hurt him any time. With pleasure."

"I think," said Buffy slowly, " we don't need you around, Spike. You're too much of a danger. But I won't stake you unless you make a move on us. How about you just go your way and we go ours?"

"Not going anywhere. I'm stuck here just like you, Slayer. Need the witches to get back home."

Buffy raised the stake meaningfully. "I suggest you reconsider that, Spike."

In a flash of vampire speed, he was right in front of her, his hand gripping her wrist. The stake vibrated under the pressure of the two opposing forces, Buffy angrily wanting to strike, Spike holding her back. They were both equally strong and the stake didn't go anywhere.

"Shall we dance, Slayer? We're on an even footing again and it'll be fun. Stay where you are!" he said sharply as the others jerked forward. "This is between us."

"God!" Buffy gritted. "I'd like to..."

"Yeah, yeah."

He stepped forward suddenly and her eyes widened as his body came hard against hers. She shoved at him with her free hand and he caught that wrist too, holding her where she was.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Been here before, haven't we, Slayer?" he said too low for the others to hear. "You even said the same words. Think you know the answer."

"And mine's still the same as before!" she said furiously.

"But not so easy to enforce without the chip."

She opened her mouth to snarl something and he took it with his. Should have done that the last time, but she had hurt him, got under his guard. The whole thing had come out of left field the last time and he had been open and vulnerable to her. She had cut him up because he hadn't been expecting it. This time he was braced for it, knew she detested him, didn't care.

She was so shocked that she didn't fight it. He kissed her the way he'd been wanting to ever since the first time he saw her, eating her alive, his mouth devouring hers. Back there behind the Bronze, he had wanted to kiss her out of love and desire, and had hoped for one bitterly self-deluding moment that she might feel the same. This time he knew that was not possible between them. This time it was out of challenge and mockery and anger, taking it because he wanted her to know that he could, with the chip gone, because he wanted to infuriate her, because—damn fool that he was—he just wanted and couldn't stop wanting.

He felt her body shudder and strain against his. Felt with triumph her involuntary response. Oh, yeah, humans had never done it for her, but the Slayer in her responded to an equal. Their mouths twisted against each other. Tongues slid and thrust and battled.

He knew the moment she came back to herself and realized what was happening. Her whole body tensed to shove him away, but he let her go in that instant and flashed back fifteen feet, laughing.

"You've got a sweet mouth, Summers."

"You...!"

"I'll go, Slayer. But I'm not gonna go far. Not when the witches are my only way outta here. You'll need me, Slayer. Call me when you do."

"We'll never need you!"

"That's what you think," he said, laughing, and flashed away.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"What the hell was that?" Xander demanded, appalled. Everybody else's jaws had dropped too.

"Just what I was gonna say," Buffy mumbled, unable to meet their eyes. She felt as if her whole body was one burning blush.

What the hell had just happened? She'd been turned on. By Spike! She hated his guts and she'd been turned on! Angry, scornful and punishing, that kiss had still gone through her like lightning, setting her whole body on fire. She'd never felt anything like that before, not with Riley or Parker or even with Angel who'd never been anything but gentle and tender. This had been all passion and provocation, and she was horrified at how violently she had responded to it.

"That was just Spike causing trouble as usual," said Tara briskly and everybody relaxed because that made sense.

But Buffy knew Tara had sidetracked everyone on purpose. She met Tara's gaze and saw the awareness and the understanding there. Thank God for Tara! Buffy suddenly understood why Willow was in love with her. Tara might be desperately shy and insecure, but she was loyal and caring and, like now, quietly protective. Buffy didn't know what would have happened if Tara hadn't deliberately defused the situation, only that things would have been hopelessly awkward.

While Willow and Tara put their heads together over Tara's notebook, and Anya helped Xander wring out his soaked clothes, Buffy paced back and forth, trying to get her head together. Spike had totally fazed her.

What was going on with him? Maybe he was just trying to cause trouble, like Tara said. But she couldn't really fool herself into thinking that, though the others had bought it. Tara, for one, knew better and so did she, if she faced up to it.

That time in the alley behind the Bronze after their evening discussing his past...He had meant to kiss her then, had tried to. _'You know you want to dance.'_She had rejected that in horror, leading him on for a moment to make it more devastating when she cut the ground from under his feet. But the heat had been there between them.

The heat had always been there. He was hot. She had always thought so, since that first moment he had come out of the shadows, clapping his hands at her dusting that vamp, then saying that he was going to kill her. She had known that he was aware of her too. But she had Angel and he had Dru, and that male-female awareness had been irrelevant. Neither of them had paid any attention to it. So when had things changed?

They had both tried to kill each other frequently, with absolute determination and dedication. He had nearly succeeded several times, Parent-Teacher night at Sunnydale High for instance when only Joyce and her fire axe had stopped him, or that time he had the Gem of Amara. He was a ferocious fighter. She had forgotten about that this last year and a half, since the Initiative put that chip in his head. The chip had made her discount him, had made her lose respect for him when he didn't fight back.

Because he couldn't.

She found herself thinking of what Tara had said. _'You do keep beating up on him for nothing, Buffy.'_ Not for nothing! For being the irritant that he was!

But she wouldn't have done that to a human. And what did that have to do with anything? Demons didn't feel! Only...that wasn't true and she knew it. Demons did feel. At least Spike did. She had known she was hurting him and she had enjoyed it. So what did that make her? she thought and saw Tara's troubled, honest gaze in her mind's eye. She blushed.

That kiss and the way it had turned her on! It had struck some chord inside her, some violence she hadn't even known she was capable of—some Slayer thing? Even Angel had never turned her on like that. The intensity of it! Angel had never been so intense, so hungry. Things had always been sweet and gentle with Angel. Riley? She had been bored with Riley, that was the honest truth; he had never really stirred her. And Parker wasn't even worth the mention.

But Spike? They had kissed during that will-be-done spell of Willow's, the one that had them both thinking they were going to get married. But that hadn't been like this kiss. That had been all easy and happy and teasing. Still there had been fire there, fire that had shot Riley down before he had even really gotten off the ground. Because those easy, playful kisses had somehow had more heat and passion in them than Riley's most determined efforts. She had blocked the memory of that spell out afterwards, horrified by her reactions, not wanting to admit how those kisses had made her feel. But the memory of them had always been there, somewhere in the back of her mind, fueling her rage at him.

She had successfully blocked Spike out entirely until now. And she was going to continue to block him out. He was a demon, a vamp, without a soul, evil. To be turned on by him was just sick. And she hated him for having been the one to tell her about Riley and those vamp hos!

She would have to be more circumspect with him now though, since the chip didn't work in this dimension; she couldn't strike him aside the way she had back in Sunnydale. He'd retaliate now, he'd made that plain, and she'd have a full scale battle on her hands. But if he gave her any real hassle, she wouldn't hesitate to dust him.

She would enjoy doing that too much. There was so much anger in her these days, ever since she had found out about Riley, that she was terrified it would break loose and run wild. No, not just since then. The anger came from the frustration that had been growing in her ever since Angel had become Angelus and her life had gone the way it had. She had been able to turn that anger on the demons she fought, on Spike, had been able to keep it away from the Scoobies and other humans. But it burned in her all the time, just beneath the surface, barely controlled.

She watched Willow and Tara going through the notes in Tara's fat notebook, mumbling and fussing over slips of paper and madly scribbling down things. From what she could hear, Tara had never had cause to make a note of a portal-opening spell and the two of them were trying to create one out of bits and pieces of other spells that Tara had jotted down.

"Can that be done?" Buffy asked dubiously and Tara gave her a despairing look that said she for one didn't think so.

"Yes!" said Willow, grimly determined.

Willow clearly would accept nothing else and she really was a powerful witch, so maybe it would work.

The sun set before Willow came up with something that Tara agreed might be successful, but there was still plenty of light in the sky for their attempt.

"I might need to borrow energy from all of you," Willow said hesitantly. "I'm sorry, but this does need a lot of power."

"Will it hurt?" Xander asked, shivering a little in his boxers. He had spread his clothes out on the sand to dry, but they were still damp since the overcast sky hadn't let much sunlight through.

Willow shook her head. "But it will drain you if I have to tap into you."

"What do you want us to do?" Buffy asked.

"Just sit down in a circle and all hold hands. It's difficult to describe, but you'll feel a kind of pull if we do have to draw on you."

"Will we just poof back if you're successful?"

"Nuh-uh. It won't be like how we got here. I don't know how this Doc guy did that. That poof thing, I mean, one minute in Sunnydale, the next here. You'll see the portal. Just jump through when it opens."

"Okay."

"What about Spike?" Tara said suddenly. "He's not here."

"The hell with him," growled Xander.

"We can't leave him."

"Well, if he doesn't want to be left, he should be here helping out."

"Xander's got a point," muttered Buffy and Xander grinned at her.

Tara was shouting Spike's name as loudly as she could. Buffy and Xander sighed and Willow shrugged. Anya looked amused.

"He'll be watching," she said. "Count on it. That vampire speed of his will get him here soon enough if you do open the portal."

"Anya's right," Buffy said suddenly, seeing a flicker of movement in the cliffs a long way down the beach. He was way beyond the range of her senses, so far in the distance that his figure was only thumbnail high. But that cocky swagger was unmistakable. She had no doubt that the portal would draw him if it really did open.

He seemed to be busy with something though and wasn't even looking in their direction, his obvious lack of interest making it clear that he thought it highly unlikely that they would succeed. Jerk.

Trouble was, he was right. It wasn't that Willow and Tara didn't try. They tried their hardest for almost an hour.

"Enough!" exclaimed Anya at last. "You'll kill yourselves if you keep on like that and you'll probably take us with you!"

They were all exhausted because Willow and Tara had been forced to draw on everyone else's energies to bolster their own. All of them lay limply on the sand, hardly able to get up. But Tara and Willow looked utterly drained, their faces white as paper. Either the spell was flawed or there wasn't a portal there to begin with.

"What do we do now?" asked Xander.

Willow was nearly weeping with frustration. Tara pushed herself up into a sitting position and patted her shoulder weakly.

"The spell's right, sweetie. Really it is. It's not your fault. It's something else. We'll try again tomorrow."

"Ingredients," Willow mumbled. "There's ingredients we can use to make it stronger. But how will we find them?"

"It's an Earth-type world." Tara laid her head on her bent knees and breathed deeply. "We'll look for them. It might take some time, but we'll find them."

"In the meantime, we'll be cold and hungry," Anya said abruptly. "Spike was right. We should have looked for food and shelter first."

"Anya!" Xander glared at her. "Spike is never right!"

Anya gave him a look. "And it's starting to rain. He said it would."

Buffy looked up and a fat drop of water did hit her forehead. Precursor to more; she was sure of that. The sky was completely overcast now and the clouds looked heavy and pregnant with rain. The light was almost gone and night was close upon them.

They couldn't go searching in the dark for shelter. They'd only get into trouble.

"Can we eat seaweed, I wonder?" Anya was saying. "If we cook it?"

A fire. That's what they needed. They were all shivering in the nasty, moisture-laden wind that was rising. Xander was pulling on his clothes even though they were damp. They could do without food till morning, but they needed warmth. Maybe they could huddle against the cliff for shelter. With a fire in front of them, it wouldn't be too bad and Tara's long, ankle-length skirt could make a kind of roof, though that wouldn't do much good if it really rained.

"Driftwood," Buffy said. "There must be some on the beach."

"Yeah!" Xander looked around, his teeth chattering. "We'll find some."

"How will we light it?" asked Anya, ever practical. "Anybody got a lighter?"

No one had. Why would they? No one smoked.

"I m-might have one of those freebie books of matches restaurants hand out," said Tara, digging around in her huge purse, and everyone looked at her hopefully. But she didn't.

"Spike has a lighter," growled Xander. "But of course he isn't around."

"Willow, you or Tara can do that Firestarter thing, can't you?" Buffy said desperately and both witches looked as if they were going to cry.

"Usually. But..." Willow wrapped her head in her arms and rocked back and forth miserably.

"I'm so s-sorry, Buffy," whispered Tara. "We're all p-powered out."

"Not a spark. See?" Willow held out a finger to demonstrate how nothing happened. "We have to wait to get our strength back."

No one said anything. It was just too awful. Another drop of rain fell. Buffy looked up. There was a tiny bit of light left in the sky, just enough to make a difference between the sky and the land. Otherwise, everything was utterly black. She had never seen such complete darkness. Back in Sunnydale, there had always been street and house lights.

"You can get a spark when you hit rocks together, right?" said Xander.

"Good luck with that," muttered Buffy.

"Or we could rub two sticks together," Xander persisted. "I've seen that on the Discovery Channel."

"You watch the Discovery Channel?" Willow asked disbelievingly.

"Well, you know how it is when you channel-surf..."

"Wait!" Anya said sharply. "Look! There's a light!"

"Where?" everyone gasped, jerking around.

"Down the beach there."

There was a light. It was tiny and it wavered and flickered, but it was a light.

"Come on," said Buffy and they all staggered down the beach.

"We don't speak the language," Xander muttered.

"I don't think whoever it is will have trouble seeing that we need food and shelter," Willow retorted. "Or at least warmth."

"Yeah, we'll catch pneumonia out here without a fire, especially if it rains."

"W-what if it's a robber or a bandit?" Tara whispered. "A respectable person wouldn't be out here all alone."

"Slayer here," said Buffy shortly. "I won't let anyone hurt us."

"It could be a fisherman in his hut," said Anya. "Or a gypsy camping out. We could trade for shelter."

"With what?" Xander patted his back pocket. "I've got a few bucks in my wallet, but I don't think good ol' US of A paper money is gonna be any good here."

"Maybe he'd like the wallet itself," suggested Willow. "That might be a novelty in this dimension. Or Tara's got things like scissors and a sewing kit and stuff like that in her purse. All tradable items."

"There's always sex," said Anya perkily.

"Ahn!" exclaimed Xander, but all the girls couldn't help giggling.

Anya gave him a surprised look. "I'd think that would be a viable commodity in any dimension."

"Let's, uh, wait and see," Buffy said hurriedly because Xander looked as if he were going to explode.

A light drizzle started as they neared the light and was threatening to turn into more.

"That's kind of high up, isn't it?" Xander remarked in bewilderment as they ran towards it. "It looks like it's halfway up the cliff."

"It's a cave!" Buffy stopped beneath the flickering fissure a third of the way up the cliff face. "At least we'll be out of the rain."

A tumble of boulders led up to it. They scrambled up them.

"Oh, God!" Xander sighed as they neared the opening. "Can you smell that? That's meat roasting!"

"Shelter, warmth and food," muttered Anya. It was starting to rain really hard now and they were all soaked. "Don't care what he looks like. I'll trade."

"Ahn!"

"What if he wants Xander?" Willow murmured wickedly.

Xander stumbled and nearly fell. "Hey!"

Willow smirked. "The good of the many..."

"Shut up."

They all crowded into the opening of the cave. Warmth hit them like a benediction. A brisk fire was burning in the middle of a large open space and what looked like a piglet was roasting on a spit over it. Pine boughs were piled into a bed on the other side of the fire and a makeshift bucket made out of a closed piece of hollow log held water.

"Gypsy or that kind of wanderer," nodded Anya.

"But where is he?" whispered Willow.

"Well, well, well," said Spike, coming from a blind spot at the side of the entrance. "Look at the bunch of drowned rats the storm blew in."

"There is no god," moaned Xander.

"The perfect end to the perfect day," muttered Buffy.

"Guess the witchy stuff didn't work, huh? Didn't think it would. That Doc, he's good." Spike hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning. "Told you, didn't I? Food and shelter first."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Xander growled, stepping forward. Then he gasped as the heel of Spike's hand struck his shoulder, knocking him backwards. He reeled against the stone of the entrance.

"And where do you think you're going, asshole?" Spike asked softly.

"What...?"

"This is my place. Go find your own."

"You bastard!"

"Ah, ah, ah. Want something? Try asking politely. Know you were brought up in a barn, Harris, but give it a go."

"Like we'd ask you for anything!"

Spike shrugged. "Enjoy it out on the beach, wanker."

"Damn it! Buffy, throw him out!" Xander yelled.

"Yeah, do that, Slayer." Spike gave Buffy a grim smile that showed all his teeth. "Force? Might is right? Want, take, have? That's demon morality, innit? You white-hats are supposed to operate differently. I do all the work and you seize the goodies? That's called theft, Slayer. A no-no under any standard of values."

Buffy gritted her teeth. If it was up to her, she would have walked right back out. But none of the others had Slayer endurance and would very likely end up sick after being wet and chilled all night in the rain.

Spike's eyes were cold and dangerous, flatly hostile. "I may be a vamp, but I have rights. Or doesn't a demon have rights? Now there's a question. But it's a moot point. By your own standard of values, you have no right either to force me out of here or force yourselves in. Or are you the same kind of sanctimonious hypocrite he is?" He cast an utterly despising glance at Xander. "Choose, Slayer. Either way I win."

"What do you want, Spike?"

"Like I said. Try asking. Know it's painful, but once in your life say please to a demon."

"Please, Spike," Tara said softly. "May we come in?"

He smiled at her. "Always knew you were a lady, Glinda. How about the rest of you?"

Willow and Anya murmured the same quickly and he grinned at them, then tilted a brow at Buffy. She glared back in silence.

"All or none, Slayer," he said sweetly. "Unanimity rule. One veto and it's all off. Come on. It's not hard. Pretty please. Try it."

"Pretty please," snarled Buffy through clenched teeth.

"_Very _good. Step on up to the fire and dry off, pets."

Willow, Tara and Anya did so, but Buffy stayed where she was, watching Spike turn towards Xander.

"Never!" spat Xander.

Spike laughed. "Think I'll make an exception to the unanimity rule in your case. The girls can stay. You get out. Gonna enjoy watching you freeze your arse off out in the rain."

"Spike, no." Anya ran back and caught his arm. "He'll get sick."

"I should care?"

"I could make it worth your while. We were talking about that before when we thought the light belonged to a gypsy or a fisherman. A trade."

"Anya, no!" Xander yelled and Spike's brows rose.

"Anything that makes that wanker turn purple sounds interesting. What kind of trade, pet?"

Willow couldn't resist. "Sex," she murmured and Spike burst out laughing.

"You serious?" he asked Anya and she nodded. He grinned widely and looked her up and down appreciatively. "Oh, that's tempting. It really is. Bet you're a right good lay, demongirl."

Anya preened. "Oh, I am."

"And you'd get something out of it too." He smirked at her. "Guaranteed."

"Oh, I'm sure of that. Vamp stamina and refractory period?" Anya sighed nostalgically. "I remember how it used to be back in the day. All those orgasms!"

"You touch her and I'll kill you!" snarled Xander, staggering forward.

"Yeah, yeah." Spike shoved him back with a casual flick of his hand. "Much as I would like showing you up to the pretty bird as the wimp you are, git, I wouldn't ask such a...sacrifice." He grinned at Anya's fleeting look of disappointment. "He can come in. Just keep him out of my hair. And that reminds me. Let's discuss house rules, Slayer."

Buffy scowled. "What the hell are you talking about, Spike?"

"My house, my rules." He gave her a hard stare. "Main one is: you don't dust me under my own roof."

"We wouldn't do that!" Tara exclaimed, horrified.

"Oh, yeah?" He jerked his chin at Xander. "That tosser doesn't have any concept of honor. Wouldn't trust him further than I can throw him. Worked pretty hard getting all of this set up and wanna get some sleep tonight. Really don't fancy him sneaking around with a stake in the wee hours. So I want your word, Slayer. No one tries to dust me."

"You have my word." She gave Xander a focused glare and he ducked his head shamefacedly in reluctant agreement. Buffy looked back at Spike. "But the way you're throwing insults around, maybe you don't think my word's any good either."

"His isn't, but yours is. We may be enemies, but I trust you, Slayer. The point of this whole exercise is self-defense. He comes after me any time, I'll kill him. No ifs, ands or buts about it. I'll rip his heart out. But I won't do it unless he comes after me. _My _word on that. Happen you find him with a gaping hole in his chest in the morning, you figure it to be self-defense and don't come after me. Deal?"

Buffy sighed ostentatiously. "Deal."

Spike looked at Xander. "Hope you heard that, asshole, because I mean it."

Xander glowered, but was silent.

"'Nother thing."

Buffy groaned. "God! Now what?"

"Little thing called courtesy. Taken a lot of nasty cracks from the lot of you since I was chipped. Couldn't do anything about it on account of that chip. Can now. Giving you all fair warning. Any one of you gives me lip gets bitchslapped upside the head. And that includes you, Slayer. Can fight you now and I'm really gonna enjoy doing it."

"Actually very reasonable requests so far," murmured Anya under her breath to Tara, but Buffy overheard with her Slayer hearing and flushed hotly.

"Fine!" she snarled, then sarcastically, "Anything else?"

"Since I'm on a roll here, yeah."

"Oh, for...!" Buffy flung her arms up and stomped away towards the fire.

"Not gonna take your orders, Slayer."

"When did you ever?"

"Mean it. You can queen it all you want over this bunch of losers, but me? I'm a free agent. I'm gonna have to travel with you 'cause I gotta stay near the witches until they open that portal..."

"If," muttered Willow gloomily.

"Oh, you'll do it, Red. Once you've worked on that bitty spell of yours some more and got yourself the right ingredients. You might not be as good as Doc yet, but you've got potential. Both you and Glinda there. You'll do it in the end."

"Thank you!" said Willow, much heartened, and Tara smiled shyly at Spike. He smiled back at her before turning back to Buffy.

"Point is, you're not my boss, Slayer. Told you that you people needed me. You do. None of you seem to have a clue what to do outside of city streets. Well, I'm perfectly willing to help out since I'll be around anyway. But you want me to do something, we discuss it and I say yes or no. You don't fucking tell me what to do."

"And you don't go snacking on people!"

"Haven't made a move on the bunch of you yet, have I?"

"On anybody! I don't want some poor jerk from this dimension coming wandering into your vicinity tomorrow and finding himself drained dry!"

"What? Aw, come on, Slayer! I gotta feed! That piglet's blood will do me tonight, but you can't expect me to settle for pig swill when I've finally got my fangs back! Isn't one dimension enough for you? You gotta protect the whole sodding universe?"

"Yes, I do! It's my job!"

"Fine! You're on your own then, and I'll go and cut a swath through whatever place this is. Scourge of Europe? Scourge of this dimension I'll be, and they won't even have seen a vampire to know what they're up against. I'll bloody rule!"

"Damn it! I won't let you!" Buffy jerked towards him involuntarily.

"Try and stop me!"

"Compromise!" Willow shouted. "There's a compromise possible!"

"What?" they both yelled at her.

"You won't like it."

"So what else is new?" muttered Buffy.

"Her or me?" Spike asked, frowning.

"Both of you. He feeds, but he doesn't kill."

"What?" said Spike.

"No!" yelled Buffy.

"It's the only way. He drinks, but he doesn't kill and they don't remember him drinking from them. Dracula could do that. You can too, can't you, Spike? Leave them alive except for a tiny memory loss?"

"Give 'em a happy if you like," growled Spike irritably. He and Buffy glared at each other. "Yeah, okay," he said reluctantly at last and Buffy flounced away furiously.

"This just keeps getting worse and worse!"

"Like I'm so happy with it either, Slayer!"

"I think the pork's done," Tara said hurriedly from the fireside. "Do you have anything to cut it with, Spike?"

"Yeah. Here." He handed her his switchblade. "There's some leaves over there you can use for plates."

"Leaves?" Willow picked up a leaf twice the size of a dinner plate and stared at it. "Holy...What kind of tree was it, Spike?"

"Dunno. Never seen it before. Had fruit the size of your head. Woulda got you some, but they looked so weird I didn't think you'd want to snack on those until you run out of other things to eat."

"God, no! Does it grow beside the beach? I didn't see any trees, only the cliffs."

"Top of the cliffs."

"You climbed up to the top?"

"Yeah, sure. Wanted to get a look at the area. That's where I got the water from too. There's a stream a bit along up there. And a road."

"Road?" Everyone's attention focused on him.

"Dirt road. Saw wagon tracks and hoofprints. Means civilization at some point if you follow the road either way. Everything to the west is ocean. Couldn't see the end of it. Woods in all other directions. But if we follow the road, we'll run into a town sooner or later."

"Don't we have anything to cut this with?" Xander asked plaintively, looking down at the slab of roast pork on the leaf Tara handed him.

Spike shrugged. "Share the knife. Or use your teeth. Unless Glinda has plastic knives and forks in that bottomless bag of hers, all ready for a picnic." He grinned at Tara.

Tara smiled back. "Sorry."

"Wouldn't have been surprised. With the Slayer and all her apocalypses around, you gotta be prepared for anything." He tilted a scornful eyebrow at the others. "Fingers were the original cutlery. And can be washed in the rain. Use 'em."

"You wouldn't have soap in that bag, would you, Tara?" asked Anya hopefully. "My hands are all sandy and grimy."

"No, but I've got a couple of those little bottles of alcohol-based hand sanitizer. You could rinse your hands off in the rain and then use that."

"Some roughing it," muttered Spike, lighting a cigarette. "City bred wimps."

Buffy glared at him. "Like you're such a nature-boy with the Man U and the Sex Pistols music and the Billy Idol wannabe hair!"

"Billy Idol stole _my_ look, Slayer. And I know my way around agrarian societies a lot better than you do."

Willow looked up, interested. "So you think this is an agrarian society?"

"That's the theory until we learn different. Lots of hoofprints, no tire marks. Hope so. Might make things easier."

"Might be only this area."

"Find out tomorrow."

"Should we?" muttered Anya. "We're safe here. But if we go wandering around..."

"Your decision," shrugged Spike. "I go where the witches go."

"We need to know more," said Willow.

"We need to get home," growled Xander.

"But we need certain herbs and ingredients for that. A town might have them."

"We'd stick out like sore thumbs. It's dangerous!"

"We could sneak in. Do a recon, like Riley would say," suggested Willow, then blushed as Buffy turned her face away abruptly. "I-I mean, Spike could go in and take a look around. He's a vamp and they're good at keeping a low profile."

"And Spike is also expendable," said Spike, blowing a long plume of smoke at the ceiling. "And the easiest to blame if things go wrong."

"Don't have a cow," said Buffy contemptuously. "I'll go in."

"We'll go in together then." Spike took a last drag at his cigarette, then pitched the stub into the fire. "Just don't want to end up carrying the can for whatever happens. Easier when you have a partner."

"I'll never be partners with you, Spike!" Buffy said violently and jerked to her feet, heading for the entrance of the cave to rinse off her hands.

Everybody carefully kept their heads down, avoiding each other's eyes. Spike got up with a lazy, dangerous, feline movement and sauntered after her.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, Slayer?"

"Just don't like breathing the same air as you."

"You've made that perfectly clear over the last couple of years. Wouldn't even spit on me to put out the fire if I were in the sun and burning, would you? Well, you're stuck with me until we get back to Sunnydale, so we might as well be polite. You're making the rest of 'em uncomfortable."

"That's their problem."

"Buffy..." He reached out to her as she turned away.

"_Don't you touch me!_"

His hand froze. She heard a mutter of sound around the fire and looked past him to see everyone staring at her, totally shocked, and Xander starting to climb to his feet.

She waved an angry hand at them. "I'll deal with this."

Xander subsided and they all carefully turned their backs to give her as much privacy as they could.

"Stay away from me, Spike," she said, keeping her voice down so that the others wouldn't hear. "You make my skin crawl. Stay far away from me and maybe I'll be able to force myself to be polite for their sakes. But lay a finger on me and I swear to God I won't be able to keep from dusting you!"

"It's because of Finn, isn't it? Because I was the one to tell you about Finn. That's what's ratcheted up the venom to this extent."

She gave him a glance that could have killed and turned away.

"I was trying to do you a favor!" He was keeping his voice low as well, but the intensity behind his words gave it the force of a shout.

"Yeah, right," she said with furious contempt.

"All right, I wanted to do Finn dirt as well. But think, Buffy! What if some vamp trull had been careless and turned him? It could have happened so easily! Think he'd have gone after you? The git's a moron, but he isn't that stupid. He'd have gone after your Mum and Dawn first. And they'd have let him get to them, because they wouldn't have been expecting it. How'd you have liked that? Seeing them dead or turned."

Her face was white as she looked at him. "He wouldn't have..."

"He bloody well would have! He'd have been a vamp!"

"You didn't. You could have turned my Mom, but you didn't."

"Finally admit that, do you? God knows why I'm different, but I tell you flat out I'm not the norm. Dru wanted to be a nun before she was turned and my Mum was the sweetest person on God's green earth before her turning. But the demon takes over. Finn wouldn't have held out. And after your family, he'd have gone for your friends. Xander first, because that retard thinks the sun shines out of Finn's ass, because he wants to be Finn but doesn't have even that small amount of balls. Then Xander would have done Anya and then Willow who trusts him, while Finn would have taken Tara who trusts everyone."

"Spike..."

"Then there you'd have been with your Mum and your Sis and the Scoobs all vamps. Think you had a hard time sending Angel to Hell? What would it have done to you to have to dust every one of your family and friends?"

Buffy turned hurriedly away from him, not wanting him to see her face. The thought was appalling. That would have finished her. She wouldn't have wanted to live if she had had to do that.

"You had to be told what kind of risks he was taking," he said behind her. "You had to know the absolute, blindingly stupid moron that he was. And even now you forgive him, don't you? That sodding idiot, Harris, talked you into that. Made you think it was all your fault. Finn wasn't man enough for you and it's your fault? Couldn't get you off, so there's something wrong with you, not him?"

"Wait a minute!" She whirled on him, her jaw dropping. "How did you know that?"

There was a little silence. He made a wiping out gesture of his hand. "Doesn't matter."

"Oh, God! You were out there! Under the tree! Listening while..." She couldn't even get a breath. "You...you Peeping Tom!"

"That's not important. Listen to me, Slayer..."

"Get away from me, Spike!"

"It's not your fault, Slayer," he called after her as she stamped away. "It isn't your fault his balls shrivel up pea-size just because you've got more stones than he ever does, just because you're better than he is at everything. A real man wouldn't find his masculinity threatened. A real man could handle that. You're strong and he's weak. That's not your fault. Don't let anyone tell you different."

She closed her ears to his words. She was not listening to him. She was never going to listen to anything he said. He was her enemy. Oh, it was tempting to believe him. Believing him would be the easy way out. But she knew the truth. She had loved Angel and so she had kept Riley at a distance, never allowing him to reach her, move her. And that had eaten Riley up. It was her fault, not his. Xander had known that and Xander was her true friend. Xander had known her for years, understood her, was on her side. She could believe him. She trusted him. She didn't trust Spike. Anything coming out of Spike's mouth was suspect.

The Scoobies looked up at her nervously as she dropped down to sit beside them.

"Buffy..." said Willow cautiously.

"I want you to run interference," Buffy said fiercely. "You keep him away from me. You stay between us. Because if he comes anywhere near me, I'm going to dust him!"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Of course she hadn't listened to him. Spike hadn't expected her to in the slightest. Slayer wouldn't listen to any demon and especially not to him. But at least he'd gotten it off his chest. Explained his motives, that they weren't what she and Doc and probably the rest of them thought they were. At least he'd had his say.

He listened with amusement to Xander whining about having to sleep on the hard stone floor of the cave. Spike had deliberately cut only enough pine boughs to provide a bed for the four girls. He himself had his duster and that, folded up lengthwise a couple of times, made padding enough for one night. If Xander wanted a bed, let him go out in the rain and cut his own boughs. Sure it was petty, but, hey, demon here. He didn't like Xander and wasn't going to put himself out for him. And he did so enjoy listening to the wanker groan and complain all night.

Breakfast for the bunch of them was cold pork warmed up over the fire. There was enough left over to wrap in those large leaves and take with them for lunch if they didn't get to a town by then. They had all decided to try for the town. Spike didn't care one way or the other. But he preferred action to sitting around here waiting for the witches to get their act together. He'd have quietly made his own explorations if they'd chosen to stay here instead.

The cave was left as it was, in case they had to come back here again, and Willow marked the spot where they had arrived, so they'd know where the presumed portal was on their return.

The climb up to the top of the cliff face was difficult for the Scoobies. Slayer had no trouble, of course, but the others could have used a rope. Spike hadn't found anything that would provide one though, no vines or anything of that sort. He stayed below the three girls as they climbed, ready to catch them if one of them slipped. Slayer was doing the same, plus keeping an eye on Xander whom Spike would have let fall with pleasure.

They all reached the top without incident though, then sat down to get their breaths back and figure out which way to go. Spike took a gander both ways, then came back shaking his head.

"Six of one and half a dozen of the other. Toss a coin."

Willow did and the result was they headed north. Spike took point, zigzagging back and forth making forays into the thick woods on both sides but with the road always as his center. He stayed well ahead of the Scoobies, in no mood today for their distrusting glances and Buffy's coldly hating stares.

Their pace got slower and slower, to Spike's exasperation, and they kept stopping to rest more and more often.

"God, you bunch are out of shape!" he said, after going back to find them once he realized they had stopped yet again. "We're never gonna get anywhere at this rate."

"Well, there's no rush, is there?" snapped Buffy.

"My feet hurt," moaned Anya, who was wearing heels. "And I think I've got a blister already."

Spike sighed. They'd only managed to make a couple of miles so far and who knew how many more miles it would be to even a farm or a village, forget about a town. He looked the lot of them over. Anya was the worst off, with her high heels, pencil skirt and gauzy blouse loose over a camisole, all fine for a day at the Magic Box but totally unfit for trudging along miles of dirt road. Tara was better off in flat sandals, an ankle-length skirt and a thin, knitted top. Willow and Buffy had come off the best when Doc's spell had caught them—both in jeans and tees, Buffy wearing boots and Willow sneakers.

"Gotta be a better way," he muttered.

"Yeah. See if you can find us a car," said Buffy bitterly.

"Try for a little discipline, Slayer. Don't sit down every five minutes. Take a ten minute break every hour and we'll have a longer one at noon. Doesn't that sound reasonable?"

Should have known better than to expect her to accept one of his suggestions.

"Nothing you say would ever sound reasonable," she flung back, pigheaded as ever.

But they did make a little better time of it after that because, stung by his words, she did keep everyone moving. Noontime came, the bunch of them stopped dead.

"An hour," said Buffy flatly when he went back to find out what the holdup was this time.

"Yeah, okay," he conceded reluctantly. The slow pace was killing him. His curiosity urged him to suss this place out and he was having a hard time waiting for them. "But don't sit down right by the road. That's dangerous. Who knows what might come along?"

"Someone who might help us."

"Optimistic of you. Don't be daft. This isn't Sunnydale. Folks might not be friendly here."

"Only a vamp would think like that. We prefer to give people the benefit of the doubt," said Buffy loftily.

Spike counted up to ten, then changed his tactics. "Aren't you thirsty? There's a stream in the woods over there. I can smell the water."

The makeshift bucket he had created last night was shallow and leaked; the water that it had held when they started out this morning was long gone. They all looked around hopefully.

"Water? Where?"

"Show you."

They had to scramble through heavy underbrush which they weren't too happy about, but which he knew with relief would conceal them from passers by. Spike insisted on scooping up the first palmful of water, his vamp immunity to poisons coming in handy, then let them drink when he was sure it was clean. The water was cold and fresh, and they all drank deeply, then sat down to eat, Anya with her feet in the stream.

Spike had a cigarette instead, savoring it now that he was rationing his pack.

"What say I go ahead, Slayer? You gits are too slow. If you stay on the road and don't deviate, I could find you once I've sussed out what's ahead."

A glance like the flick of his switchblade. "Don't care where you go."

Shouldn't even have asked. Dumb-ass. Had said it without thinking, just being polite. He changed the subject to keep from snarling back at her.

"You sure that translation spell you and Glinda put together at breakfast will work, Red?"

"It should. That one wasn't too hard or too far off one of the transmutation spells Tara had in her notebook. You should understand what's being said and they should understand you."

"Not planning on talking to anyone. Just eavesdropping."

"Sneaking around as usual," Xander muttered into the pork he was scarfing down.

Spike flicked his cigarette stub at his face and Xander struck it aside, then glared at him. Then Xander's eyes widened and he jerked to his feet.

"Hoofbeats! Someone's on the road! Come on!"

"No!" said Spike sharply. He had heard it five minutes ago, but had hoped the others wouldn't.

No one listened. They were all racing down to the road like fools. He followed them. Xander was ahead of them all, running out onto the road, waving his arms. Spike scanned the area, then made a fifteen foot leap up into a tree and swung onto a branch that overhung the road, from where he could strike if things went pearshaped.

A single rider. Recognizably human, which was a relief; no bug-eyed monsters here. And his mount was a recognizable horse, so this dimension wasn't too far from theirs. Quality horse, well-to-do rider if the gold embroidery on the good broadcloth of his long tan jacket, breeches and cloak was anything to go by. No pistol holster at either side or saddle; a sword instead, which was some indication of the level of technology here. Walnut brown skin, black hair, brown eyes widening in shock and fear at the sight of Xander barring his path.

"_Quenya!_" Which must be either a name of some kind or an epithet because it didn't translate. "Get away!"

"No! Wait!" Xander waved his spread hands.

The horse danced as the rider checked it, staring at the girls struggling out of the underbrush.

"Bandits! The Magister shall hear of this!"

"Wait! Wait!" Xander yelled. "We just need help!"

The rider dug in his spurs and the horse sprang forward. Xander jumped out of the way just barely in time to avoid being ridden down. A whip slashed and Xander yelped, then horse and rider were past, pounding down the road.

"He hit Xander!" Willow was gasping, shocked. Tara and Anya ran to him.

"Moron deserved it," snapped Spike as he swung himself down from the tree.

Xander choked, almost more angry at Spike for witnessing the debacle than for being hit. "You bastard!"

Spike was already flashing away through the trees. The road made a bend here; he had found that out previously when he had explored ahead before coming back to the rest of them. If he cut through the woods, he should, with his vampire speed, be able to intercept the rider before the man was out of reach.

He could hear Buffy shouting after him, but ignored her. Right at the moment, he was out of patience with fools who refused to listen to plain warnings and didn't have a speck of ordinary commonsense. What did they expect the man to think, seeing a bunch of weirdly dressed people running at him out of the woods? Vagabonds, beggars, bandits, wolfheads—that's what Spike himself would have thought in the days before Dru turned him. He might have been a nerdy poet, but he had also been a monied Victorian gentleman and the first thing that would have leaped to his mind was that they were after his purse.

The rider had slowed his headlong pace now that he was away from the perceived threat. Spike was ready on an overhanging tree branch when the man arrived beneath him, leaped down behind him in one swift, flowing movement and struck him precisely behind the ear before his prey had time to react. The rider sagged, unconscious, and Spike reached around him to catch the reins from his lax grip. He turned the horse into the trees, then stopped when they would not be visible from the road.

"And lunch," he said with satisfaction.

After a year and a half of dead pig's blood, the live human blood flowing into his fangs now was pure ambrosia. He drank deeply, savoring it. Thank you, Doc!

No death though, which was a pity, because the life taken was also nourishment. But still he had promised the Slayer. And to have fresh human blood after so long was delight enough. He could judge it to a nicety, knew when the man's heart started faltering and withdrew his fangs before the critical point. Between the blow and the blood loss, the git would be out for at least six hours which would give plenty of time before the alarm would be raised. Spike had plans for those hours.

He dragged the man deeper into the underbrush where he wouldn't be seen, then relieved him of his purse. The saddlebags on the horse provided several more coins, a flask of liquor of which Spike took a couple of appreciative swallows, and a packet of bread, cheese, and jerky which he appropriated since the Scoobies could use it. A search of the man's person also delivered up a pocket watch, a couple of rings and a snuffbox, all of which Spike left alone. Those were traceable and he wanted nothing on him that could be tracked back to the victim in case the law in the district caught up with him.

The horse showed no aversion to the change of rider. Spike patted its neck affectionately and headed on down the road at a steady gallop. Two hours later, he was lying on his stomach in some underbrush on the outskirts of a village, the horse tied up and hidden in the woods behind him.

There weren't many houses in the village itself, but there were several cottages scattered across the strand and plenty of boats and nets drying. Fishing community, he guessed. But the place had three roads leading out of it, an inn at its center and a couple of what looked like general stores. The village was a focal point of some kind, despite its size, due to the location of those roads. That might be useful or that might be a disadvantage, depending. The stores were what interested him, because they might provide the supplies the witches needed.

He studied the people intently, his vampire hearing picking up snatches of their talk. They were stockily built, but all of average height, so the Scoobies would not seem that much out of the norm in that sense. But they were also all brown skinned and black haired, and their eyes had a slight epicanthic fold. Which meant that even if pale skin and hair were not unheard of in this land, the bunch of them were certainly going to be noticed.

With Earth history in mind, he had wondered whether gender would be a factor. But jobs didn't seem to be segregated by sex. Both sexes seemed to work the fishing boats, and the livery stable beside the inn had both male and female grooms. And clothing—pants vs skirts—seemed to be related to the occupation and personal preference rather than gender. A rider passing by wore a brigandine of leather that from the visible riveting was lined with metal plates. Someone's man-at-arms, Spike thought, before a closer look revealed that it was a woman. Female warriors accepted. Interesting.

He watched the village for over an hour, then collected the horse and headed back down the road. The village was over thirty miles from where the Scoobies were. At the rate they were going, it would take them two or three days to get here and they would be footsore and bone weary by the time they did. One horse wouldn't make a difference, though they could put Anya on it. In those high heels, she wasn't going to make many more miles.

He found the Scoobies a few miles along from where he had left them and drew his horse into the trees to watch them. They hadn't made much progress in the time he was gone. Anya was limping badly and she and Xander were squabbling loudly. Willow and Tara looked grimly resigned and Buffy looked like she wanted to kill something. Spike couldn't help grinning at the sight.

But what really interested him was that his hearing could pick out the rattle of wheels a mile behind them. He slid his horse through the trees, passing the Scoobies so quietly that they weren't aware of him. The wheels turned out to belong to a wagon like a buckboard, laden with kegs and pulled by two stocky, powerful carthorses, one man driving. Perfect.

He tethered the horse behind a stand of trees, then waited in concealment beside the road, flowed up the wagon as it passed before the driver realized he was being attacked and struck the man with the point of his elbow just below the ear. The man collapsed. Spike caught the reins and drew the horses to the side of the road, then tipped the driver back into the body of the wagon, where he plopped into a boneless heap.

The various-sized casks half-filling the wagon turned out to be kegs of ales and spirits. Spike had a strong suspicion they were meant for the inn in the village, which suited him just fine. He located a cask about a foot high, knocked the bung out of its hole and sniffed at the contents. Brandy.

Spike grinned, took a slug, then poured a considerable amount down the carter's throat, carefully making sure that the man didn't choke. If the wagon hadn't been carrying booze, he would have used the liquor in the flask he had liberated from his lunch. But this was better, since the brandy was way more powerful than the stuff in the flask. In a little while, the git would be drunker than a skunk and shouldn't come to till morning. If he did, Spike would do the same thing all over again.

He splashed more brandy over the man's clothes so that the sod looked and smelled as if he had been on a bender, then hopped down off the wagon. He had to work fast now, before someone came along and saw the wagon standing there unattended.

He hitched the reins of the carthorses to the branch of a tree beside the road, then recovered his original horse and went back to locate its master. He found that one still passed out where Spike had hidden him and good for a couple more hours of blotto. He dragged him out into the middle of the road, dumped him in a sprawl so that it would look like he had fallen from his horse, then dropped the horse's reins to trail in the dust beside him. The horse was docile and didn't look like it would wander far. When the man came to, the loss of his money would tell him that he had been attacked, but he wouldn't know how or by whom. The man hadn't seen him, wouldn't know him from Adam even if their paths should cross in the future.

The carthorses were still waiting patiently by the time he got back to them and no one had passed by. Spike hopped up onto the seat, gathered up the reins, took the brake off, then clicked his tongue. The carthorses plodded off, uncaring who held the reins, and Spike grinned happily.

He came up to where the Scoobies should be and was gratified to see that the road was empty. They had finally learned their lesson and had ducked into the woods at the jingle of harness and the creak of wheels.

"Anyone want a ride?" he called and they all came staggering out of the trees, staring at him and the wagon.

"Where," Buffy drew a deep breath that he knew was the prelude to a shouting match, "did you get that?"

He jerked his chin over his shoulder. "From him."

They all stared over the side of the wagon at the limp figure snoring among the casks.

"He's drunk," said Willow.

"No shit, Red. Couldn't hold his liquor. Pathetic."

"You made him drunk," accused Buffy and Spike shrugged.

"Yeah, I did." But he didn't tell her how. "Gets us a ride though, doesn't it? There's a village some thirty odd miles up the road. He was heading there and so are we and I don't think he's gonna be objecting any to a few passengers. So unless you feel like turning down a lift and keeping on using shank's mare the rest of the way..."

"Thirty odd miles?" muttered Anya. "The hell with this. I'll take the ride."

She scrambled into the wagon and took off her heels with a groan. Spike grinned and tilted his scarred eyebrow at Buffy's glare.

"Why am I getting the feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye?" she growled.

"Because you've got a mean, suspicious nature, Slayer? You'd better watch that. Keep scowling like that, you'll have these nasty grooves all over your face before you're thirty." He glanced back at the rest of them clambering into the wagon, and grinned at the whiplash cut on Xander's right cheek. "Marked you, did he? Maybe now you'll come around to the idea life isn't all roses and puppies out here."

"He didn't have to do that," Xander muttered.

Spike snorted. "Weirdos running at him out of the woods? You'd have screamed and run yourself, hero, even back in Sunnydale." He looked down at Buffy, still standing beside the wagon, with her hands on her hips. "You planning on walking, Slayer? Still too stuck up to accept a ride if I'm the one offering it?"

"How'd you guess?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be an ass, Slayer. Get up here or get in the back, one or the other. I've got some info about this world which might be useful for you to hear. Or are you determined to make the same mistake as you did when you wouldn't listen to me about Doc?"

She looked as if she wanted to snarl at him again, then took a deep breath, let it out and climbed onto the wagon seat beside him. He knew that if he said one word, she'd jump off again, so for once held his tongue between his teeth and just clicked to the horses.

"Right," he said when they were on their way. "Here's the gen so far."

He laid it all out for them, everything that he'd seen and heard.

"So, once we get to that village, you've got two choices. Either we be upfront about it and just brazen our way in or we sneak in under cover of night and make a raid on those stores. Trouble with walking in is that we'll be conspicuous. We don't look the way they do. We could buy whatever supplies we need honestly, but they'll all be freaking out about the aliens in their midst. Don't forget that an agrarian society is usually a parochial society."

"So we sneak in and raid the store," said Anya, which made everyone else shift uneasily.

"We'd be stealing," muttered Willow.

"Don't have a problem with that here," smirked Spike.

"Big surprise," snapped Buffy.

"Trouble with sneaking in," Spike went on, ignoring her, "is that Willow or Tara would have to come with me, because I don't know the herbs and whatall they need for their spells. Neither of them are any good at breaking and entering, and the consequences if we get caught could be pretty dire."

"Isn't there any other option?" asked Willow plaintively.

Spike shrugged. "We could always go back to the beach."

"We'll have to steal," said Anya. "We don't have any money."

"Oh, we do." Spike held up the now heavy purse that he had liberated. "Enough for a while."

"How...?" Then Buffy gasped. "That rider! What did you do to him, Spike?"

"My lunch? He'll be all right. A bit groggy from blood loss, but he'll survive."

"You stole that from him! Give me that!"

He struck her hand away as she snatched at the purse. "Mine now. You thinking of giving it back to him, Slayer, or throwing it on the road? Sod that."

"We can't profit from theft!"

"Maybe you can't, but I can. Evil here, remember? Deal with it, Slayer."

"Damn it!"

"'From each according to his ability, to each according to his need,'" intoned Spike pontifically. Then he snickered. Buffy glared at him and he was amusedly aware of the rest of them frowning at his back. "Forget about that. You gits have bigger problems. In a couple of hours, we're gonna be at that village and you're gonna have to decide on the way you want to play this. Concentrate on that, will you?"

Which started an ongoing debate that raged on for miles, as he had known it would. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, Buffy fell silent beside him. He glanced sideways at her. The others were still arguing and yelling behind them, but he guessed that she had made up her mind. Her profile was cool and withdrawn, its clean lines intransigent. That intransigence of hers, that black and white thinking, drove him crazy. But it was part of her, part of what made Buffy Summers.

Spike adapted to circumstance, was as fluid as water while still, like water, keeping his own essential nature. Buffy was like the rock the water broke itself upon. And that was her nature, hard as iron, unyielding. But true as steel, a swordblade. And he couldn't help admiring her for it, though that very factor in her was a death knell to all his hopes.

"What are you looking at?" she growled and he realized that he had been staring at her for he didn't know how long.

"You're going straight in, aren't you?" he said. "Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes."

She laughed involuntarily. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

"I know you."

Buffy glanced at him, surprised. He was looking back at the road now, and his profile was still and quiet and a little sad. The slanting light from the westering sun filled his one visible eye with blue light like a goblet, and emphasized the cut-glass cheekbone and strong jaw. Now that he wasn't fleering and jeering at them, she saw the poet that he had told her he had been, the thinking man that he kept hidden. Behind the mockery, it was a sensitive face; and she found herself wondering suddenly whether the mockery was a defense.

"How do you know?"

"Watched you. I've had years to watch you. Know your enemy. You may not have seen me, Slayer, but I've seen you. Know what makes you tick."

She shifted uneasily on the seat and he turned his head to grin at her.

"Don't like that idea, do you? I've studied you, Slayer. I've got video of you fighting. Analyzed your moves. You weren't hard to figure out. You're all one piece. Everything up front."

He wasn't. He was all layers. That mockery wasn't a defense. It was part of him. He was a mass of contradictions. Mockery and sensitivity. Violence and gentleness. The killer and the poet.

"Are you saying I'm shallow?"

"No. But what you seem is what you are, Slayer. There's no admixture of other metals. You're one thing straight through. Pure gold all the way. Or iron or whatever. A sword is a sword is a sword."

"I think that's a compliment," she said dubiously and he laughed.

"Is. Wasn't meant as one, but..."

"I didn't think so."

"But it's the truth." He looked away from her frowning face, glancing back over his shoulder at the debate still raging on behind them. "How long are they going to keep this up?"

Buffy sighed. "Till we get there."

"Don't you ever get sick of it?"

She did. Hours and hours of debate and argument; the constant pressure put on her to act this way or that. It wearied her. But...

"They're my friends," she said flatly.

He said nothing, just clicked his tongue at the horses. A silence fell between them. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just sort of peaceful as the miles rolled on and the Scoobies' voices yammered and argued behind them.

She found herself watching him. She had never really looked at him before. He was just this irritant that she wanted to avoid and didn't ever want to think about. These last two days was the longest they had ever spent in each other's company.

He finally became aware of her gaze and glanced at her in surprise. "What?"

"Trying to analyze my enemy," she said dryly.

He laughed a little under his breath. "I'm not your enemy, Slayer. And until you see that, you'll never get things right."

"You're not my friend either," she retorted.

He looked at her suddenly and his eyes were all blue light and intensity. "What do you want me to be, Slayer? Tell me what you want. I'll be it."

She caught her breath in shock, her jaw dropping. But then he was laughing, drawing the wagon to a halt, twisting in his seat to look back at the Scoobies. He had to have been sending her up.

"Right, you gits. Listen up. Village is right around that bend. Slayer wants to go straight in. Thing is, we'll need a cover story about what we're doing here, weird looking people like us. Something that will make sense to these sods."

"Yeah, being flung here from another dimension is not going to cut it," muttered Willow.

"Another continent?" suggested Tara. "T-there's always another continent and, chances are, without newspapers or TV, ordinary people wouldn't know what its inhabitants look like."

"We're castaways," Spike nodded. "Our ship was wrecked and we're the only survivors. We don't know anything about this continent and we're trying to get home. It's the truth, only with a bit of a twist."

"This wagon," said Xander sharply. "How do we explain that? Or do we just ditch it and the driver?"

"Thought of that," said Spike. "That's another reason I got the sod drunk. We could ditch it and the carter will bring it in when he comes to in the morning. No one's gonna believe any story he's gonna tell, the way he smells of booze. Or we could drive the wagon in ourselves. We could say we were walking to the village and ran into the wagon a couple of miles back, with the driver dead drunk in it. Being the helpful gits that we are, we're bringing the wagon and its load in to the authorities."

"No, too complicated," muttered Buffy. "Let's just ditch it."

"H-he'll get in trouble, won't he?" said Tara, softhearted as usual. "Because you made him drunk."

Spike shrugged. "Can't be helped."

"Spike..." began Buffy and he gave her a totally unrepentant look.

"We needed the ride and he wouldn't have given it to us if he'd been sober. I'm betting those kegs are being delivered to the inn here. That means that they'll know the cart and the driver, so it shouldn't be too bad for him."

"An inn," sighed Anya. "Could we get rooms there for the night? You can't mean to just go to the store and then start walking back all that way! It's late. It'll be dark soon."

Spike glanced at Buffy. "It's your call, Slayer. Most natural thing really would be to take rooms at the inn." He tilted a sardonic eyebrow at her. "We do have the money."

Buffy sighed. "Yeah, I guess we better. They'll all be watching us, won't they? Because we're so weird. Or just because we're strangers."

Spike nodded. "They'll be suspicious. Some spy would follow us if we leave. Just to make sure we don't steal things or set fire to barns. Vagabonds like us aren't to be trusted."

"More walking," Anya groaned as she reached for her heels. Even after the time she had spent in the wagon, it hurt to have to wedge her shoes back on.

While the others climbed stiffly out of the wagon, Spike yanked the carter's legs around so that he looked as if he had fallen backwards from the driver's seat. Spike dribbled a little more brandy over him, then left the cask close to his hand as if he had dropped it when he passed out. It made a believable picture.

"That was one painful ride," Xander groaned, rubbing his ass. The wagon had no springs and they had all been jounced around like jumping beans whenever it had hit ruts and holes in the road.

They limped into the village and were immediately met with popping eyes and consternation. The children playing in the road took one look and fled, yelling. Men stopped dead in the street; women leaned out of the windows of their houses to stare; youths followed them, whispering and elbowing each other in the ribs.

"Smile and keep going," said Spike tightly under his breath. "Don't stop on any account or we'll get mobbed."

They smiled grimly and headed determinedly for the inn. The sign outside it had a picture of a dove on it under script they couldn't read and a real dove was huddled, bedraggled and pathetic, in a cage hanging from it.

"Oh, the poor thing!" said Tara and moved without thinking towards the cage.

"Glinda, if you set that bird free, I'll bite you!" said Spike savagely. "A hassle right off with the locals is the last thing we need."

Tara jumped and blushed. "S-sorry."

"Humanitarian impulses can come later. Survival comes first. Everyone shut up and let me do the talking."

The inn door opened on a taproom, already half-filled with customers now that the twilight was falling. A dead silence fell on their entrance, everyone turned to stone and gaping.

"Evening all," said Spike jauntily. "Where's the proprietor?"

After a moment of frozen shock, a beefy man edged forward, wiping his hands on his apron.

"I..." he said nervously, "I am the... I own..." He swallowed hard and recovered himself. "What would be your pleasure, good sir?"

Under a battery of staring eyes, Spike launched into their tale of shipwreck. He asked blandly if there was a ship they could take passage on to get home, knowing full well that there would be no vessel like that in this village.

"Not here," muttered the innkeeper. "In Micad."

"Where's that?"

"Some fifty _stads_ up the coast. But...but you must speak to the authorities first..."

"Happy to. Who'd that be, mate?"

"Magister Relke."

"Right. Where's he then?"

"He is in Arun, er, three _stads_ to the north."

"So we'll go see him in the morning. Got any rooms available for the night?"

"Three. But..."

Among the collection of coins in the purse Spike had stolen had been five distinct kinds: a larger and smaller gold piece, the same in silver, and a copper. Spike had one of each loose in the pocket of his duster. He took the larger of the gold ones out and held it up.

The innkeeper drew a deep breath. Awed whispers hissed in the back of the room. Spike got the strong impression that most of the people here had never even seen a coin of that denomination. He grinned.

The innkeeper let out his breath in a shuddering wheeze. "You wish the rooms for the week then, my lord?"

Spike didn't miss the promotion or the implication of the worth of the coin. "We might. Depends on your Magister. But we'll also want food..."

"And baths," said Buffy suddenly from beside him.

"And baths," agreed Spike. "And a private dining room if you've got one."

He put the large gold coin back into his pocket, took the smaller one out and tossed it to the innkeeper. The innkeeper caught it nimbly, glanced at it and swelled like a frog with satisfaction.

"Of course, a private dining room, my lord, my lady. We have every amenity here at the Dove. This might be a small village, but nobles have rested here..."

"The location, I suppose," said Spike lightly to cut off the innkeeper's babbling.

"Yes, yes, precisely. If the gentlefolk would come this way..."

"Money talks," said Spike dryly when they had been shown their rooms and the innkeeper had finally bowed himself away after a great deal of bombast and flattery, promising to have the serving girls bring hot water for the baths as soon as possible.

"It seems you stole from the right man," said Buffy bitterly.

"'M lucky that way," smirked Spike. "Only got a couple of these gold ones that've got everybody freaking out. Most of it is copper, with a handful of silver. Have to find out what they're worth. But it looks like we'll be able to buy what we need. Just in case we get separated though, you all better have some."

He handed everyone some of the copper coins and a couple of the silver.

"How come you're keeping the gold?" Xander grumbled.

"First off, I'm the one who stole it. Second, I'm the one who can defend it if we get jumped."

Eyes went wide and round.

"You think..."

"I'm just saying that in a village as small as this, those gold coins might be a very big temptation."

"Give them to Buffy then."

"Slayer has problems clobbering humans. I however," he grinned nastily at Xander, "have none."

"How are we going to share rooms?" Willow said hastily. "You guys take one and we girls take the others?"

"No way I'm sharing a room with Deadboy here!" Xander yelped. Each room had only one bed— kingsized, but only one.

"Got that right," said Spike and shuddered. "Though it might have its advantages. I do tend to get peckish during the night." He kept his face carefully straight as Xander did a horrified doubletake. "How about Willow and Tara in one, Anya and Harris in another, and you and me share the third, Slayer?"

He grinned at the glare she gave him.

"Not a snowball's chance in Hell, Spike. Those beds are big enough for three, so I'll be bunking with Willow and Tara."

"Room all to myself. Oh, the possibilities." Spike slanted a suggestive glance at the two pretty serving maids bringing cans of hot water to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Giggles and half-lidded, reciprocal glances came back. "Yeah, definite possibilities. You're right about those beds. Threesomes can be such fun. And...breakfast in bed is a bonus."

He turned away to follow the maids and grinned at the sound of Buffy's footsteps chasing after him.

"Just hold it right there!" she snapped.

"Not in the hallway, Slayer. Have to present a solid front here. Gotta make like happy families. Don't want these people getting the idea that there's dissension in the ranks. "

Buffy yanked open the door to one of the bedrooms they had been assigned. "Shut up and get in here!"

Spike shrugged and strolled in. "Wanna be alone with me? Always happy to oblige." He laughed as she snarled. "And don't slam the door, pet. Same reason as before. Might give the wrong impression."

Buffy _had_ been going to slam the door. Now she gritted her teeth and closed it with care, then turned to glare at him standing in the middle of the room, smirking at her.

"What's got your knickers in a knot this time, Slayer? The threesome or the breakfast?"

"You're not snacking on these people!"

"The breakfast. Bugger off, Slayer. Already have. Will again."

"Absolutely not!"

Spike sighed theatrically. "We had this discussion yesterday, remember?"

"It's different now!"

"Why? Because they have faces now? Because it's not just some anonymous someone I'm drinking you don't have to know about?"

Buffy bit her lip.

"They always have faces, pet," he said with wry gentleness.

"You can't..."

"I have to." His face hardened. "You have to eat, I have to feed. You bunch are always so good at denial. But this is a cold, hard fact that can't be denied away. So unless you're willing to surrender your lily-white neck to my fangs, deal with it."

"There are alternatives and you know it!"

"Animal blood. Dead blood. Why don't you eat bugs or worms, Slayer? They're protein. People have, during famine times." He smiled sardonically at her involuntary look of revulsion. "Better things around to eat, right? Don't talk to me about alternatives. I've been eating garbage for the last year and a half. Not going to do it now that I don't have to."

"I'll..."

"Only way you can stop me is to stake me. And I will fight back."

"Dammit, will you give me a chance to talk?"

"Got some argument I haven't heard? Go ahead." He grinned as she floundered. "It's not like I'm gonna be killing them. Said I wouldn't and I won't. And it's not like they're gonna remember or that it'll even hurt them. That threesome? Those two girls are gonna love being bitten. I can make it so good for them. They're gonna have such a rush, they'll be begging for more."

"Don't make me barf!" snapped Buffy, her nose wrinkling in distaste, and his eyes narrowed.

"Ohh, _that's _what it really is. It's the threesome not the breakfast that's bugging you."

"Don't flatter yourself!" she spat furiously and he shook his head.

"Oh, I'm not. You're wondering what it's like. Because of Cardboard. You're wondering what could be so intense that it would draw him that much."

"Shut up!"

"Bull's eye." He gave her a slow, sensual smile. "I could show you."

"Don't you dare!"

"You want to know, don't you? You're dying to know."

"Get away from me, Spike!"

"Haven't moved," he said softly. "You just want me to. So many things you want, Slayer, that you don't let yourself have. Because you've been told it's wrong. Like that number Angel pulled on you."

She stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Couldn't take the heat, so he hightails it out of Sunnydale. But because he can't have you, he makes sure he fucks up every other relationship that you might have."

"He didn't do anything of the kind!"

"Didn't he? He's the one who laid this 'normal' thing on you, isn't he? Normal!" he said contemptuously. "Like a Slayer would ever be satisfied with normal. Humans will never do it for you, pet. You found that out with Finn and that Parker git, didn't you? Don't have the strength. Don't have the endurance or the stamina. Would break in half if you really cut loose. So you have to hold back all the time and you never get off. A Slayer needs someone as powerful as she is."

"God!" She gave him an incredulous look. "Can you possibly be saying you're the only one for me? As if! Geez, Spike! Ego much?"

"Me or someone like me, Slayer. Remember yesterday? You responded, pet. You wanted it."

"I did not!"

"Think I couldn't tell? You damn near ate me alive, Slayer!"

"You bastard!" She struck out at him furiously, burning with shame. How dared he bring that up, throw it in her face like that? He had taken her by surprise and she had responded automatically, without thinking. Only to the stimulus. Not to him. Never to him!

He struck her fist aside. She swung at him again, shaking with rage. He ducked, then slammed her up against the wall, his full weight on her to keep her from striking him.

"Hit me and I'll hit you back, Slayer! Not gonna take this shit!"

"Get off me!"

She shoved at him violently and he caught her wrists and pushed them against the wall, holding them there with all his strength. They thrust at each other, she trying to force him away, he trying to keep her still.

To her horror, she found herself intensely aware of his body against hers, all that hard muscle and vibrant strength, his breath on her face, the masculine scent of him, the cave of his mouth, open and panting. She was appalled to realize that she was aroused, could feel herself all buttery and throbbing. And he was aroused too. She could feel that hardness against her belly.

"At least I'm honest," he said under his breath. "I want you. Don't want to want you. Pissed as hell I should be such a sodding idiot, but there it is. There's something between us, Slayer, and if you were honest, you'd admit it. But you're the queen of denial and you never will. So, okay, I accept it. But push me and I won't answer for myself."

She was shuddering, fighting that blind response of her body, fighting the way the heat of rage had turned crazily into the heat of desire. This was insane, so utterly, preposterously wrong. She wouldn't accept it, wouldn't permit it. Her own reactions repelled and revolted her. She went suddenly cold with anger and fright, her skin chilling.

"Let me go," she said fiercely, carefully holding herself rigidly still.

He did, releasing her wrists and shoving himself away abruptly. He was breathing hard, as was she. Vampires didn't need to breathe, so she guessed he was as affected as she was. What had seemed just challenge and mockery yesterday had taken on a whole new aspect that she didn't want to face.

The bones of his face were standing out in strain and his eyes were very dark as he watched her, their pupils dilated within a thin rim of intense, blazing blue. Something moved within them, a bitterness. She blocked that out swiftly, expertly, practiced in blocking out anything she didn't want to see in him.

"If you touch me again..."

He made a scornful gesture. "You'll kill me. Yeah, yeah. Got that song memorized, Slayer. Get yourself a new one."

She truly, truly wanted him dead.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The taproom was empty when Buffy and the Scoobies came down in the morning. The innkeeper came hurrying towards them the moment he heard their footsteps on the stairs, wringing his hands together tensely.

"Really looking forward to breakfast!" said Xander and the man bowed several times.

"It will be served at once, sir!" He held open the door to the private dining room.

"Good. I'm starved," said Xander.

"Had mine," said Spike, coming from the direction of the kitchens. The innkeeper jumped.

"In the kitchen! You should have been served in the dining room!" he exclaimed, horrified.

"Oh, I hold no state." Spike grinned. "Got everything I needed."

"She should have known better!" The innkeeper stormed off. "Saskia! What is the matter with you, woman?"

"Is Saskia still in existence?" Anya asked interestedly.

Everybody stopped short and stared at Spike, who gave them a bland look back.

"Oh, yeah. And feeling very happy right now, despite the blood loss. Breakfast might be a little delayed though, due to the high."

Anya laughed, but everyone else looked sick.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that when he said he'd had breakfast," Xander muttered.

"But then you never were the brightest bulb out of the box," said Spike over his shoulder as he headed towards the inn door.

"Thought you were planning breakfast in bed," Buffy said snappishly under her breath as he passed her.

He heard her though the others didn't. "Far too easy pulling your chain, Slayer. The threesome thing was just a gag. I'm smarter than you. I don't do humans. Too fragile. Were you jealous?"

"You...!" Her hands curled involuntarily into fists.

"Wanna get it on, Slayer? Let's spar. Might end up back against the wall again. I liked that. You're making me think you did too."

The inn door opened before she flew at him and a man walked in. He was like the other villagers, short and stocky, and he wore faded, sailcloth trousers like many of the fishermen. But under the sleeveless leather vest he was wearing, his body was covered with tattoos. They writhed from his bare feet to his neck, spiraled up his arms and made a tiger mask across his face, even twisting over his shaved head, blue-black against his brown skin. The tattoos made it hard to tell his age; he wasn't young, but he wasn't old either; he seemed ageless.

"Yes," he said in a deep, resonant voice. "Strangeness."

Everyone gaped at him and he looked them over at leisure. Unlike the others they had met so far in this dimension, his eyes were light, utterly colorless, so pale and opaque as to be white. It made him seem blind. But that gaze saw them, ran over them, probing like a needle. It flicked over Xander without interest, paused thoughtfully on Willow and Tara who both flinched involuntarily, lingered on Anya who squeaked and ducked behind Xander, widened on Buffy, then narrowed on Spike.

"Other."

"Yeah, what of it?" said Spike.

The innkeeper had emerged from the kitchens and was now scurrying forward, almost bending himself double as he bowed and bowed again.

"Master Lioslath!"

Buffy took the opportunity to elbow Spike in the ribs. "Cool it. Looks like authority there."

The man might be dressed plainly, but he radiated presence.

"Yeah, some high muckamuck," growled Spike.

"Your message reached us," the man was saying to the innkeeper. "You have done well."

"I think mine host has sold us out," Spike muttered in Buffy's ear, so softly that only her Slayer hearing should have picked it up. But the man's white gaze came up at once.

"He did his duty and he was right to do it. What do you outlanders purpose on our soil?"

"No harm," said Buffy quickly. "Are you the authority here?"

"This side of the Querid is in my care."

"You rule?"

"The Diarchy rules."

"But you represent it?"

"Magister Relke is the Diarchy's representative. I defend."

"He...he's a wizard," Tara breathed almost without sound, startling the others. They exchanged nervous glances while the man frowned.

"A...wise man?" he said, the translation apparently having come across imperfectly. "Indeed, I hope so."

"She meant a magician," Willow said, stepping forward to shield Tara from that focused white stare.

"A mage? I am. And so are the two of you. I sense power and I ask what it does in our land."

"We're castaways," Buffy said. "We're here by accident and we mean no harm to anyone here. We're just trying to get home."

"So." The mage turned his head to look at the innkeeper. "Groot. A room where we may speak in private."

"There...there is the salon, Master," stammered the innkeeper. "But it is small. Perhaps the dining room? It is private and they were about to break their fast."

"That will do. Any patrons that come may be served in the taproom, but no one intrudes upon us or comes near until I call. I will know if they do."

"No one will disturb you, Master Lioslath!"

"Good." The mage pointed at the dining room and they all filed meekly inside. "Be seated."

They took seats around the long table while he shut the door.

"Now. Explain this...accident."

Buffy launched into Spike's story of shipwreck. Halfway through, the mage held up a hand.

"Stop. There was no ship and you are not from another continent. I know this. Begin again."

"T-tell him the truth," Tara whispered.

"A far better idea," said Lioslath. "I know when you are lying."

"Do you also know about dimensions?" Buffy asked dryly.

"Other worlds existing side by side with this one. Yes."

Everybody let out a breath of relief.

"Well, thank God," muttered Buffy and started all over again, this time explaining what had really happened.

"This enemy of yours is arrogant to have done this." The mage was frowning. "We do not appreciate having our world used as a midden in which to fling the unwanted."

"We don't appreciate being flung into a midden either," muttered Spike under his breath and the tiger mask markings on the mage's face twisted into what looked like amusement, though it was hard to tell.

"We just want to get home," said Buffy.

"We only came to the village to get some herbs and other ingredients so that we could open the portal again," Willow explained nervously, then sighed. "The spell that we used didn't work, so we were trying to strengthen it. To be honest, we don't even know if there really is a portal there."

"There is a Gate at that location," said the mage. "Speak to me the spell that you used."

Willow dug into her pocket for the piece of paper on which she and Tara had written out the spell. She read out the words, careful not to put any power behind it.

"Crude," said the mage. "No matter. I can help you refine that."

"Oh, would you?" Willow and Tara both looked hopeful. "We'd be so grateful!"

"Despite that, it should still have been effective," Lioslath mused. "The two of you between you have power enough to have opened the Gate. Was there no response of any kind to the spell?"

"Nothing. _Nada._Not a flicker." Willow sighed deeply. "It was just a blank. As if nothing was there at all."

"This warrants investigation. Give me the turn of a glass." Lioslath got up and opened the door. "Groot!"

The innkeeper came running. "Yes, Master?"

"I will use the salon. Bring these folk their meal, then leave them be. I will return," Lioslath threw over his shoulder and strode out, the tattoos on his body and shaved head writhing.

"Kind of overwhelming," murmured Anya, "but he seems to know what he's doing."

"You should feel the power radiating off him," muttered Willow. "Guy's got some really big mojo."

"Well, I hope he's on our side," sighed Buffy. "Seems to be."

"Pissed at Doc for dumping us on his turf," Spike agreed. "I think he'll help us just to get us out of his hair. Well, figuratively speaking."

"Can we not make cracks about the extremely powerful wizard we need to keep on the good side of?" snapped Buffy and he raised mocking brows at her.

Lioslath returned just as they finished their meal. He looked very angry.

"The Gate is closed. Your enemy has collapsed it."

"Can that be done?" Willow asked in amazement.

"It takes power and apparently he had enough. Also it is easier to destroy a thing than to create one. It will take a lot of trouble and effort to mend. Several months of unnecessary work!" he fumed. "I do not have the time for this."

"That's Doc," muttered Spike into the flagon of ale he had been sipping at while the others ate. "Real pain in the ass."

"Months!" said Buffy, appalled. "We can't stay here for months! Isn't there any other way we can get home?"

"I will aid you, if only to spite your foe." He scowled at them. "Also your presence here disturbs the Balance. You do not belong here and, like a stone thrown into a pond, the ripples you create trouble the harmony of this existence."

"Tremors in the Force?" suggested Xander, unable to resist.

"Exactly so," said Lioslath, missing the allusion completely. Everyone else frowned fiercely at Xander, except for Spike who grinned into his ale.

"Believe me, we'd love to leave...in one piece," said Buffy, suddenly thinking that all Lioslath really needed to do to remove their presence would be to have them all killed. And he seemed Big Cheese enough to be able to order that. "But, um, how?"

"There is another Gate."

"Really?" Everyone leaned forward excitedly.

Lioslath unrolled a map on a clear area of the table. "There is, however, a difficulty."

The map showed a huge continent like a blunt-edged, upside-down triangle. Districts, cities, towns and roads were all clearly delineated on it. Except for the north. The north of the continent was one dark blot. No markings lay within that blot except for two straight lines that looked like roads, running in a wide X across it.

"That is the Querid," said the mage. "The Diarchy holds no sway over it. It belongs to the Quenya, the other race. Presumably, they too have their towns and districts and lordly domains, as we do. But they tell us nothing of them. They are a secretive people. And their mages keep that land hidden from us."

"Here be dragons," murmured Tara.

Lioslath gave her an interested glance. "What are dragons?"

"Just a term for strange dangers," explained Willow when Tara blushed and stammered. "Are those lines roads?"

"Yes. By treaty, they may be traveled by those of the Diarchy. However, the safety of those travelers depends solely on the goodwill of whatever lord owns the land the roads pass through. Many a time, people who have entered the Querid do not exit it. We do not know if they offended the inhabitants in some way or whether they suffered an accident or were killed by the whim of some lord through whose lands they passed. All who enter take their lives in their hands."

"Don't tell me," groaned Buffy. "The portal is on their land."

"Here." Lioslath laid a finger on the blot, close to where the two roads crossed, but some distance north of it. A gold star appeared on the map when he took his hand away. "It lies in a power-sink, so I can feel its location, though I can tell you no more of it."

"Wonderful," said Buffy.

Lioslath gave her a direct look. "It would be a long and dangerous journey, through strange and wild lands. This will not be an easy run. It would be better to wait for me to mend the Gate here."

"But you said that would take months. And don't you want us out of this world fast?"

"Yes, but you would be safer waiting."

Buffy glanced at everyone else. "What do you think? This vote has to be unanimous. I'm not going to drag anyone into danger against their will."

"Let's try it," said Willow. "Slayer, two witches and a vampire. No other group would have better odds."

Tara thought it over carefully as usual, then nodded. Anya and Xander hesitated, but finally said yes. Spike just shrugged.

"Told you. I go where the witches go and it should be fun."

"Fun," muttered Xander. "These people. What do they look like?"

"More like you than us," said Lioslath and Buffy remembered that rider they had accosted on the road shouting 'Quenya' at them. "Taller. Pale skin. Varicolored hair."

"That might help," said Anya. "They mightn't be so upset if we look like them."

"But human?" Xander persisted and Lioslath looked puzzled.

"Like you. What is it that you mean?"

"They're not demons or monsters or anything?"

Lioslath looked blank. "They are Other."

Spike couldn't resist. He went into full gameface.

"Spike!" exclaimed Buffy and everyone looked nervously at Lioslath.

"Ah, he's a mage," said Spike. "He should be able to handle it."

And indeed Lioslath was only looking fascinated.

"A different kind of Other," he said. "Yes, I felt it. Your honesty is appreciated. I did have doubts. What are you?"

"A demon," growled Xander.

"A vampire," said Buffy. "He has certain abilities. Super strong, super fast, sees in the dark..."

"That will be useful to you in the Querid," Lioslath nodded.

"Drinks blood," snapped Xander.

"Not from my people," said Lioslath sharply.

"Agreed," said Buffy quickly and grinned triumphantly at Spike.

Spike gave her a nasty smile back. "Do you have any objections to my drinking from the Quenya, sir?"

"None at all," shrugged Lioslath and Buffy's face fell. "They are not my people."

Spike smirked at Buffy. "Precisely."

"She too." Lioslath was looking at Anya. "She is not exactly like you, but there is still something Other about her."

Anya sighed. "I was a vengeance demon, but my amulet was destroyed and I'm just human now."

"That was your power-focus?" Anya nodded and Lioslath looked sympathetic. "I feel for you. It is terrible when that happens. To lose not only your abilities, but your protection."

"Yes!" said Anya, glad that someone understood. "I was strong before, never mind about the wishes. I was hard to kill. Now I'm weak and vulnerable. It's scary. I hate it!"

"But you do not despair. That is strength. There is strength in you. Let me show you something. Give me your hand." Anya did so and he smiled at her, the tiger mask of his writhing. "Look into my eyes. Follow me."

"What are you doing?" Xander said sharply.

"Do you see it?" Lioslath said to Anya. "Look. There. Inside yourself. That spark. That center."

"I see it," whispered Anya. Her eyes were half-closed; her gaze turned inward.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Xander, reaching to slap their hands apart. Willow caught him back just in time.

"Xander, don't! They're linked! Breaking the link could be dangerous! It could harm her!"

"Whatever focus you used was fueled by this innate strength," Lioslath was saying. "Do you see it in you? That core? Draw from it. You are strong to have survived the loss of your focus. There is where your strength comes from. Access it at need."

Anya drew a deep breath. Her eyes snapped open and she laughed.

"What have you done to her?" Xander shouted.

Anya's eyes were shining. "I _am_ strong! I _can_ survive!"

"You must believe in yourself," said Lioslath. "Take pride in being you, child. You were always an outcast, were you not, Aud? And you thought there was something wrong with you because of that. That is not so. See yourself. The core is strong and beautiful. Rely upon it."

"Yes," breathed Anya.

"I don't understand," said Willow as Xander grabbed at Anya, pulling her away from the mage. "Did you make her a vengeance demon again? Can she grant wishes?"

"No, no," said Lioslath. "She does not have her focus. That amulet she spoke of. She was afraid. I only showed her that she need not be. I have done nothing to her but show her herself."

"You should have told us what you were doing!" Xander flung at him. "You should have asked!"

"_She _knew and came willingly down the road." The strange face writhed into a frown. "Did you not want her healed?"

"She was doing fine as she was!"

"Was she? She will do better now." He turned away to look at the others—Willow and Tara looking taken aback, Buffy frowning, Spike grimly amused. He shrugged, dismissing the matter. "So. When do you wish to make the journey?"

"Uh..." Buffy blinked. "As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can get everything we need."

"It will be a long journey and you will need supplies. That can be arranged. Have you funds?"

"Think so." Spike pulled the purse out of his duster pocket and tipped its contents onto the table. "The others have a little. Not much."

"This will more than suffice you. Do you know the worth of these coins?" The mage reached out to tap each one as he explained. "A copper buys a loaf of bread. Five would purchase a day's room at this inn. A hundred equal the smaller silver coin, which would buy a good horse. Ten of those make up the larger silver. Twenty of the silver make up the smaller gold. Ten of those make the larger. What did you give the innkeeper?"

"The smaller gold," Spike said wryly.

Lioslath put his head back and shouted, "Groot!"

The innkeeper tumbled in the door. "Yes, Master!"

"The Outlanders will be leaving tomorrow. Where is the coin they gave you?"

Groot sighed and handed it over reluctantly. Lioslath gave it to Spike, then tossed one of the smaller silver coins at Groot who snatched at it, then fled when the mage waved him away.

"That was still double the charge for two days' hospitality for the six of you, so he should not feel ill-used." He got up, crooking his finger at Buffy and Spike. "You two come with me. You other four wait."

The man was a whirlwind. Within an hour, he had them all fixed up. A wagon with two good horses. All the supplies that they needed, from food to bedrolls to utensils. Tools to repair the wagon and tack and care for the horses, axes to chop firewood, a box of first aid supplies, more practical clothes for the girls...

"Trousers, not skirts," he ordered flatly. "It will be a long and arduous journey, and you women will not have time for dalliance. Sturdy boots." He shuddered over Anya's heels and looked Willow's sneakers over with interest. "Weapons. Who can use a sword?"

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances, then raised their hands mutely. They were all breathless and feeling somewhat intimidated.

"Rather like a strict headmaster, isn't he?" Spike said under his breath to Buffy and they both grinned, for once in accord.

"Daggers for the rest," the mage went on. "Bows for birding or hunting. Who can use them?" Again Buffy and Spike raised their hands and he nodded. "As I expected. You two are the warriors." He glared at Willow and Tara. "You novices come with me."

"H-he refined our spell," Tara reported later. "And got us all the herbs and things we needed. He's given us an amulet he says will help with the portal." She looked thoughtful. "I didn't think about it till now, but it's kinda nice having people just accept that we're witches and not think we're freaks."

"He said I have talent, but need a tutor," Willow said, giggling, then looked at Tara with pride. "He says Tara's a natural and I should listen to her."

"Got that right," Spike muttered, exchanging a wry glance with Buffy.

"Throws his weight around," growled Xander, still resenting the mage's highhandedness. "Who does he think he is?"

"This area's boss," shrugged Spike and Xander glowered at him.

A little later, the heavier supplies that had been ordered began to arrive. Spike started loading them onto their new wagon, working around the man the mage had sent to paint a strange symbol in bright red on each side of it. He had most of them loaded when the mage's deep voice spoke behind him.

"What is a demon?"

Spike looked around to see Lioslath sitting on a barrel, watching him. The tattoos that covered the mage made him seem almost a demon himself.

"What brought that up?"

"The callant back there appears to have an obsession with that subject."

"Callant?"

"Callow young man."

Spike gave an involuntary snuffle of delight. "Good eye. Yeah, that wanker really is hung up on this demon thing." Spike tried to think how a demon would be described in the Watchers' books. "General description of a demon is a vicious supernatural being, not human, not always intelligent, often with strange or powerful abilities, often immortal, capable of great harm, inimical to humans. Evil. Without a soul."

"Are you a demon?"

"Vampires do fall into that category," Spike said dryly.

"Do you agree with this description?"

"Suppose. Lots of demons are peaceful though. Not interested in humans. Just wanna be left alone."

"But not your kind."

"Vampires feed on humans. Need the blood and the life force for sustenance."

"Are you evil?"

Spike couldn't help laughing. "Hell, yeah. And proud of it."

"Then why do you not act evil?"

Spike unnecessarily adjusted the position of a barrel of flour on the wagon bed. "What do you mean I don't?"

"Why are you helping these children? If you were evil, you should have killed them all by now."

"Need the witches to get home, don't I? Besides, the Slayer protects them."

"Poison would take care of your Slayer. Fangs would take the others. Keep the red-haired witch to get you home. She has the most power."

Spike gave him a hard look. "Are you suggesting I do that?"

"You are capable of it. I am only curious about the reason you don't."

"My business," Spike said gruffly. But his gaze flicked involuntarily to Buffy coming out of the inn.

The mage was watching him thoughtfully. "You have killed."

"Tens of thousands," said Spike. He straightened, turning away from the wagon, and gave the mage a level look. "I am a vampire and I've been a vampire for a hundred and twenty years." His voice had lost its usual North London accent and had unthinkingly regressed to the cultured speech patterns he had grown up with. "I took a life every night. I and my three partners were called the Scourge of Europe. Three hundred and sixty-five nights in a year for a hundred and twenty years, and in those years I sometimes killed many in one night. You do the math. And, no, I have no remorse. Or guilt. I do not apologize for nor repent nor deplore those deaths. It is simply a fact. The nature of the beast."

"You do not regret it."

"I have no soul to regret it with."

The tiger mask writhed into a frown. "What is a soul?"

Spike gave him a twisted grin. "Ask the Slayer that. Or the Scoobies. I don't know. It's the thing that makes you feel guilt, I suppose. A vampire I know was cursed with one a hundred years ago. He's spent the last century groveling around, beating his breast. Didn't do much of anything else but whine, mind you. But now he's finally trying to make amends." His voice went back to normal, mocking and contemptuous. "Gives the Slayer and her bunch all a warm fuzzy. Prime example of evil he was. The rest of us couldn't possibly match the killings and the rapes and the tortures he committed in the hundred and fifty years before he got the soul. But he's all sorry now and he's saved a few blokes. A drop in the bucket compared to the ones he's put under, but it's the thought that counts, right? And, hey, he's got that soul now, yeah? So he's a good guy and the Slayer's one true love."

"It makes so much of a difference."

"Apparently it makes all the difference."

"Then why do you not acquire a soul?"

Spike laughed involuntarily. "Doing fine without one, thanks ever so. Besides, it wouldn't make any difference to that lot if I did. They might forgive Angel, but they'll never forgive me."

"That seems somewhat hypocritical."

"They're experts in that."

"As with Anya."

"Picked that up too, have you?" Spike gave him an appreciative glance. "Soul doesn't really help, except in Angel's case, God knows why. Scoobs never listen to Anya, not even when she has information that could be useful. And, as far as I'm concerned, Harris treats her like dirt."

"Do we of the Diarchy have souls?" Lioslath asked suddenly.

"Don't know. Don't care. Does it matter?"

"The attitude matters. That kind of blindness can prove a danger on your journey."

"Then speak to the leader of our happy band." Spike raised a hand and waved. "Hey, Slayer! Master Lioslath has a question for you."

Buffy came over, frowning. "What is it?"

"He'd like to know if you consider him and his people to have souls."

Buffy blinked, then smiled at the mage. "Of course you do. You're human, so you must."

"Isn't it nice when things are so simple?" murmured Spike and she glared at him.

"Are you trying to cause trouble, Spike?"

"Who, me?" He gave her a mocking smirk. "We need some rope. Gonna go fetch some. That'll give you time to repair the damage."

"Damage? _What_ has he been saying?" asked Buffy, horrified, as he swaggered away.

"It is a jest," Lioslath said mildly. "He knew that was what you were thinking he had done, so he said it first. That can usually be considered a defensive reaction."

"Boy, he must have really given you a snow job!" Buffy exclaimed. "Defensive? Spike? He's conned you! What on earth were you talking about?"

"We were only discussing demons and souls. He gave me to understand that demons are evil."

"Well, for once he spoke the truth. They are. They kill out of malice and they enjoy killing."

"Anya enjoyed killing when she was a demon?"

"She did."

"And that one." He jerked his chin towards Spike going into a store down the street. "He enjoys killing?"

"Oh, boy, yes! He's killed thousands and loved every minute of it. But he won't kill here," she said hastily, recollecting herself. "You don't have to worry about that. He gave his word he wouldn't kill."

"But he is a demon. Will he not break that word?"

"Spike keeps his word."

"Why? Is he not evil?"

"Yes, he's evil. But..." She rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out an easy way to explain Spike when she didn't really understand him herself nowadays. "He keeps his word, that's all."

"I see." He studied her, the tiger mask of his face enigmatic. "The difference between him and Anya puzzles me. Anya is a child. He is youthful, but he is not a child. And yet he tells me he is only over a century old while she is over a thousand."

"Demons live in the moment. Neither past nor future exist, only the now. I suppose that's why Anya is the way she is. But Spike was a scholar before he was turned and he's insatiably curious. Always has to keep messing around with new things. He learns and changes and adapts."

"Not your usual demon then."

"No. Not all demons are the same. Even vampires, I guess."

The mage tilted his head sideways and those strange, white eyes studied her with amusement. "Why was that difficult for you to say?"

"It's a very simple equation and I'd like to keep it that way. He's a vampire. Vampires kill people. I'm a Slayer. It's my job to keep vampires from killing people."

"Therefore you would kill him. Would he kill you?"

"He's tried! Often."

"But he has not succeeded. Are you that much more skilled?"

Spike was in fact more skilled than she, expert in fighting techniques she had not learned. But the Slayer in her kept him at bay.

"Not really," she muttered.

"You are evenly matched then and the battles come to no conclusion."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Were either of you really trying?"

She stared at the mage. "Well, of course we were!"

But she was starting to wonder whether that was really true.

"You are very young." The tiger mask of his face was unreadable, the strange, blind-looking eyes disturbing. "You have been taught strangely. There are walls all around you. You exist within them, folding yourself to fit that small space. How can you breathe, constricted like that, with so little air?"

"I don't understand."

"Do not rely upon rote. Stretch, breathe free, look about you and judge for yourself."

"What...?"

"One day perhaps." He shrugged, glanced in the direction Spike had gone. "That one could be a formidable ally. You have need of such."

"We can make it home without him!"

"Of course. You will find a way for those in your care. But will you find a way for yourself?"

"What?"

"Always searching. Always disappointed. Your track was bent through no fault of your own. By circumstance and questionable teachings. To straighten it, you must open yourself to strangeness. The Querid is a dark place and strange. To survive it, you must not be a rock, but a sieve. You must learn not to resist, but to accept. The little one. Tara? Her instincts are true. Follow them."

"I don't understand."

He stood up, tattoos writhing. "The best sword blade is flexible. It can be bent and then snaps back. Inflexibility is not a virtue. What cannot bend will break."

He walked away, leathery bare soles silent on the cobbles.

"Ohh-kay," muttered Buffy. "Make with the obscure some more, Obi-Wan. _So _helpful."

She scowled at Spike coming back to the wagon with coils of rope over his shoulder. He sighed, seeing the expression on her face.

"What have I done now, Slayer?"

"What the hell were you talking to that man about?"

"Very little of consequence." He tilted a brow at her. "Git seems to have freaked you out."

"He gave me this weird lecture."

"Oh, yeah?" Spike glanced at her warily. "About what?"

Buffy thought it over, frowning. "Adaptability, I think."

"Oh!" Spike looked amused. "Yeah, I can see where he's coming from."

She glared. "The implication was that we're gonna need it where we're going."

"His country. He should know."

She started to pace back and forth, and he watched her, his brows raised.

"Got to you, did he? Never seen you this edgy before, Slayer. What's up?"

She hated having to admit that Lioslath was right. They did need Spike. She glowered at him. She would so much rather keep him the enemy, the way Giles and the Watchers' Council and everyone who had any sense at all saw him. Vamps were evil. That was all there was to it. One exception to that rule was bad enough. And even that had had its truly bad consequences, when Angel had temporarily lost the soul that had made him the exception.

Spike didn't have a soul. No exception there. Not at all. Plus he was a pain in the ass. Plus he got to her, got under her skin the way no one else ever had before. She hated what she was being forced to do.

"If it was just me, I wouldn't worry," she growled. "But the rest of them...I'm scared for them. Scared I won't be able to keep them from getting killed somehow."

"You'll do it, pet," he said gently. "You're the Slayer. The only way anything will get to them is through you and you don't go down easy. I should know."

The gentleness threw her, was unexpected, getting under her guard. She smiled involuntarily, then caught herself up and scowled again.

"Will you...help?" That was really, really hard to say.

His eyes widened. She could see him looking for the catch. He dropped the coils of rope into the wagon and arranged them carefully.

"Are you talking about a truce, Slayer?" he said at last. "A real truce, without the knives coming out every five minutes?"

She flushed a little. "Yeah. Stakes sheathed. But you've got to keep those fangs sheathed on your side as well."

"Okay." She had thought he would have looked triumphant, but he only looked astonished. He gave her a distrustful glance. "Uh, sure I'll help. With the girls anyway. Not with Harris."

She grinned. "Took that for granted."

"Good. 'Cause I'm not putting myself out for that git." He gave her a hard stare. "And none of your mean cracks, Slayer."

"I never...!" Then she bit her lip as his brows went up. "The same back from you!"

"Deal."

"Wonder how long we'll be able to keep that part of it," she muttered.

"If we try really hard, maybe half a day."

He was smiling. Not that mocking smirk, but a real, genuine smile, long creases slashing down his cheeks. She'd never seen him smile like that at her before, though she had seen him smile like that at Dru or at Joyce. It made her uneasily aware of how really handsome he was. She had always been able to shut that out before, safe behind her anger and her denial. Now she felt disquietingly vulnerable.

Something in the way he was watching her made her acutely uncomfortable, the vividly blue eyes warm and oddly gentle, oddly...tender.

She turned away hurriedly.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was difficult not to start yelling at him the very next morning when she came out of the dining room after breakfast and saw him come strolling lazily out of the kitchens once again.

"Tell me you didn't!" Buffy exclaimed.

His brows rose. "'Course I did. Don' know how long it'll be till I'll be able to get my fangs into one of the Quenya gits. It's gonna be animal blood for a while, unless one of you sods volunteers to feed me."

"You try...!" began Xander, then stopped when it was obvious that Spike wasn't listening.

"Saskia again?" asked Anya brightly.

Spike grinned at her. "Nah, Geertje. Wouldn't do Saskia so soon. Gotta give them a week to recover from the blood loss, y'know."

"For God's sake, Spike!" Buffy snarled. "The wizard said he didn't want you drinking from his people!"

"Well, she's not gonna complain. Really not," he said and laughed. "So if you don't want him to know, you lot just keep your gobs shut. Right then. All ready to go?"

"Yeah," growled Buffy, defeated. Couldn't change what had already been done. All they could do was hope Lioslath never found out about it. But she was going to keep a closer eye on Spike from now on.

They left the inn, heading for the livery stable where the wagon waited. Just outside the inn door, Tara stopped suddenly.

"Spike..."

"Oh, yeah," said Spike, looking at the sad little dove in its cage. "Forgot. I'll fix it, Glinda."

"They'll only get another one," Xander muttered.

"They will. But this one's probably suffered enough," said Spike and went back into the inn.

Five minutes later, he came out, unhooked the cage from the sign and handed it to Tara.

"There you go, pet. It's all yours. You can do whatever you like with it."

Tara gave him a brilliant smile, then put the cage on a hitching post and opened the little door. The dove didn't move for a moment, clearly disbelieving in its freedom. Tara put a finger through the wires of the cage and gently tapped its back just above its tail. Startled, it hopped forward out of the door, blinked once, then abruptly took wing.

They all watched it fly towards the forest. When they looked down again, they realized that the mage was standing behind them, thoughtfully watching the dove fly free.

"Indeed," he said with no expression at all.

"I c-couldn't..." stammered Tara. "P-please don't let them get another one."

"No." He smiled gently at Tara.

Then the tiger mask of his face went frighteningly cold as he looked at Spike. Everybody held their breaths. Spike just looked blandly back.

"The nature of the beast," said the mage. "I will overlook it this time, vampire. But not again."

"Understood," said Buffy quickly when Spike said nothing, just met the wizard's hard stare with one equally hard and cold. No apologies from Spike. Oh, no. Just the flat statement: this is what I am; this is what I do.

"Intransigent," said the mage and to Buffy's surprise Spike jumped a little. "You are more alike than you know. Are you willing to bend, vampire?"

"Won't do any good, will it?" Spike snapped back.

"Have you not seen already that it does?" Lioslath turned to the rest of them. "Take these."

They reached hesitantly to the necklaces he was holding out to them—leather thongs on which iron pendants dangled, the same curious symbol that was painted in bright red on all sides of the wagon.

"Wear them always where they can be seen," the mage said. "They are not charms. They have no magical properties. What they are is a request that you be allowed passage. And that is all they are. A request. The Quenya will choose whether to honor it or not. There is no appeal to their decision. You are not our people. Should you fail to reach your destination, there will not be even a formal diplomatic protest from the Diarchy. It will be as you have never been. Do you still insist upon the journey?"

"Yes," said Buffy and slid the thong over her head and let the emblem fall onto her breast bone where it would show clearly. They all followed her example. "We must."

"On your own heads be it. I cannot wish you luck. Your own must suffice you." He nodded brusquely to all of them, then turned on his heel and went into the inn.

"Well, gee, thanks," muttered Xander. "Would it have killed him to wish us luck?"

"He's a mage," said Willow sharply. "His wishes have weight and his power would automatically attempt to make any wish come true. He can't even say 'farewell' or 'goodbye' because that would be a wish, can't you see that? He's been as kind to us as he could. The man's been very, very helpful and he didn't have to be."

"He just wants us off his land as fast as possible," muttered Xander, still angry at whatever it was the mage had done to Anya.

Buffy found herself sharing a rueful look with Spike. The journey hadn't even started and the Scoobies were already squabbling. It wasn't a very auspicious beginning. Xander sulking, Anya and Tara scared, Willow defiant. Responsibility for the Scoobies was weighing heavy upon her.

It would have been so much easier if Doc hadn't sent them with her, if it had been only her and Spike trapped in this dimension. The two of them might have killed each other, but she never had to worry about Spike. He could take care of himself, was almost belligerent in his insistence on carrying his own weight. No fuss with Spike, no sulks or tantrums or angst. Either outright defiance or sensible cooperation. He might make her furious, but he wasn't a burden.

"Right then. Let's get a move on," he said briskly and went on ahead swiftly to get the wagon.

Unlike the Scoobies, he was beginning to become a partner. And wasn't that a weird thing to happen!

It took five days to reach to the end of the Diarchy's land and cross into the Querid. For the most part, Spike drove, with Tara taking over when he needed a rare break. The two of them were the most familiar with horses. Buffy rode shotgun and the others sat in the wagon or walked beside it now and again to stretch their legs.

They started every day an hour after dawn and stopped an hour before sunset to give themselves time to set up camp for the night. Spike had showed them all how to do that now. Digging a fire pit, building a fire, cooking and setting out their bedrolls on the ground or in the wagon under canvas to protect them if it rained was becoming second nature. Spike would then go hunting and bring his catch back, drained of blood, to supplement the stores Lioslath had ensured they had. Often he didn't need to do that because they had already caught something while they were traveling. Both he and Buffy were very good at bringing down rabbits and birds with a bow from the wagon seat, and everyone had become rather queasily accustomed to Spike happily draining the prey of blood right then and there while he drove, before the life in the blood dissipated. Spike had no qualms at all about being watched while he drank blood and it was only Xander now who complained that the sight turned his stomach.

"So don't look," shrugged Spike. "Never asked what it did to my stomach to watch you stuffing your face with donuts and whatnot back in Sunnydale, did you?"

"That's different," muttered Xander.

"That's what you think," said Spike and the girls giggled. Xander glared.

Buffy had unrolled the map Lioslath had given them and was checking their position in the light of the campfire.

"Where are we?" Willow asked.

"We should be getting to the border tomorrow." Buffy pointed to the little red dot on the map that indicated their party. That dot moved as they traveled, always indicating exactly where they were.

"Nice trick," said Anya, admiring the neatness of Lioslath's spell. "The man does have power. He reminds me of this demon I knew in Siberia. Tchernovog. Did you ever meet him, Spike? He had that ruler-of-all-he-surveys attitude."

"Yeah. Territorial. Didn't like him."

"Cute though, in a Cujo kind of way."

"We don't want to hear, Anya," said Xander edgily.

"Rabid dog is right," Spike was nodding. "Was that because he was a Rurik demon, Anya, or was that because of his connection to the land?"

"Both, I think. Rurik demons are very tied to the land and Siberia being so harsh..."

"I said, we don't want to hear about it, Anya," Xander snapped.

Anya blinked, realizing that she was once again acting more demon than human. They all expected her to fall silent, the way she always did when Xander reminded her of her error. To their surprise, she cast him an irritable look.

"It's nice to be able to compare notes every now and then." She got up from beside him and moved over to sit beside Spike. "You don't have to listen. I don't complain when you all talk about things that bore me."

Spike grinned at Xander's stunned face, then he and Anya went off in a low-voiced discussion about Rurik demons. Willow, Tara and Buffy exchanged glances, then carefully went on with whatever they were doing. Xander glared.

"It's all Spike's fault," he muttered angrily under his breath to Buffy. "If he didn't encourage her, she wouldn't..."

"She would," said Tara quietly on his other side. "She likes being able to talk about her life as a demon. She was one for a thousand years."

"Well, she's human now. You'd think she'd want to forget about having been a demon!"

"Th-that being such a shameful thing," said Tara.

"Well, yeah!" exclaimed Xander.

"She doesn't think so."

"She should!"

Tara said nothing, just leaned forward to stir the pheasant stew cooking in its pot over the fire.

Xander went to complain angrily under his breath to Willow who tried to soothe him. Buffy sat frowning into the fire. Anya didn't think there was anything wrong with having been a demon. Xander was the one who freaked out about it. Anya didn't really care. She was human now and presumably had a soul. But that soul didn't seem to have any guilt over the thousands of people whose deaths she had been responsible for as a demon.

Unlike Angel with his hundred years of guilt and angst. There was a strange innocence about Anya. Angel wasn't innocent. And without the soul, Angelus had been pure evil.

She looked at Spike. He wasn't innocent. He was aware, knew right from wrong. Not always, but most of the time; it was the subtleties that confused him and led to the blind spots. Even when he knew though, he didn't care. He acted as he chose and didn't duck responsibility for those actions, was proud of them. Which in a weird sort of way was a kind of honor. No guilt though. No soul, of course.

No soul meant evil. And yet he wasn't acting evil. He wasn't pure evil, the way Angelus had been.

That was a startling thought.

It hadn't struck her before and it wouldn't have now if he weren't being so helpful. She didn't know how any of them would have made this journey without his knowledge and expertise. They had always discounted him, not only because of the chip, but because his plans never seemed to succeed when he was in Sunnydale. But he had kept himself and Dru alive for one hundred and twenty years. That implied a great deal of smarts, strategy and ruthlessness, couldn't be written off as accident or simple blind luck.

He was the one who showed them what to do, found quick solutions to any problems that arose, kept them all going with his teasing and his laughter. Even the ever present snark had lost its sting and his wide range of interests made conversation interesting around the fire at night, made him able to interact with everyone. None of them had spent time with him before and they were finding him pleasant company. Except for Xander, they were all enjoying his presence.

He had promised to help with the girls and he was keeping his word. He had become the bulwark at her shoulder and that was unsettling.

He should be evil and yet he wasn't, not completely. It was too confusing. She didn't want to think about things like this. Being stuck here in this dimension was giving her too much time to think. Everything had been so simple back in Sunnydale, the roles self-evident and straightforward. Here, everything was blurring together into gray.

She didn't like it.

She frowned at him as he dropped another load of wood beside the fire. What was the difference?

"What did I do now, Slayer?" he asked, amused, noticing her stare.

"Why aren't you like Angelus?"

"Not all demons are the same," he said dryly. "Haven't you noticed? You know about the non-harmful community of demons in Sunnydale. You may not fraternize with them, but you don't run them out either, so you must be aware of the difference."

"I'm not talking about them."

"Just us bad'uns." He dropped down to sit beside her, smiling crookedly. "You finally admitting me and Angelus aren't alike? Excuse the shock here, please. World must be coming to an end. Had an epiphany on the road to Damascus, have you? Philosophical meditations in the still of the night? Dangerous, Slayer. Might topple your worldview."

"God, you can be such an asshole!"

He put out a hand to stop her as she started to scramble to her feet.

"Sorry. Brain just spun out. Never thought I'd hear you say something like that. Can't get my lobes around it. What brought that on, Slayer?"

"Anya and her lack of guilt."

He let out a long breath that was half a laugh. "The soul thing. Back to that, are we?"

"It's important!"

"Is it?"

"Of course it is! Why are she and Angel so different?"

"Vengeance demons, they think it's justified. They think their victims deserve whatever's done to them. That provides a cushion between them and reality. No such thing for vamps. You get a soul, you get the whole load of shit dropped on you, every blood-splattered minute of it." He gave her a scornful look. "But I wouldn't spend a century beating my breast and eating rats."

"The guilt wouldn't bother you the way it does Angel? If it had been you or Dru, neither of you would have cared?"

"Takes people different ways, Slayer. Dru..." His lips compressed. "Dru wanted to be a nun, pet. If she got her soul back, she wouldn't be able to handle the guilt. She'd walk into the sunlight right there and then."

"Would she?"

"Oh, yeah. And of all of us, she's not really responsible. Angelus drove her insane, turned her only after he'd broken her. She's innocent. Me, I'm not. I said yes. Dru asked me. Didn't force it on me. 'Do you want it?' she said. Didn't really know what I was agreeing to, but I wanted it. Wanted something ...effulgent. Something...more."

There was a little silence.

"Are you sorry you said yes?" she asked curiously at last.

"No," he said flatly. "I like being a vamp. I like the strength and the speed and the power."

"And the drinking blood?" she mocked.

He gave her a hard, defiant stare. "That too. Everything has a price. That's the price for the rest. Wouldn't be hard to give up if I had another option. Wanna offer your blood, Slayer? That's a trade I'd go for."

He smirked at the look she gave him, then was silent for a moment.

"Recently the cost's been pretty high," he said. She thought he meant the chip, but the strange, unreadable glance he gave her made her wonder if he meant something else. "But I can handle it. Curse me with a soul and I'd handle that too."

"How?"

"Deal with it, I guess. Accept it, come to terms, move on."

"Adapt. Your specialty," she said dryly.

"A very useful survival trait, luv. Because the world isn't black and white, however much you want it to be. "

She jumped a little and glared at him. "You think you have all the answers."

"Slayer, I don't even know the questions." He sighed deeply and got up. "I just know what I want. And I know I'm never gonna get it."

He walked off into the darkness. She frowned after him. She didn't understand him and the more they talked, the less she understood. And why should she even try to understand him? She hadn't needed to back in Sunnydale. It made her uneasy and irritable, everything being unstable like this. She liked solid ground under her feet and everything about Spike these days was like treading on quicksand.

They crossed into the Querid the next day. The guards at the border post took one look at them and waved them on. Lioslath must have sent word to let them pass.

There was an immediate difference. The dirt track they were traveling on didn't change, but the woods were thicker, pressed more closely against the road. The Diarchy's territory seemed more settled, more...tame. All the tidy little villages, the checkerboards of the fields, the signposts and neat drystone fences, the way the trees and underbrush were carefully cut back from the road to allow for safe passage, all spoke of law and careful husbandry.

The Querid was wild. There were no farms or houses visible from the road and the mage had warned them to make no forays into the woods, never to leave the road except to fetch firewood or water or to retrieve game that they managed to shoot within sight of their wagon. The forest on either side was thick and deep, trees left to grow as they would, untouched, untamed, no sign of cultivation or agriculture. They felt that nothing had changed in these woods since the dawn of time. There was a raw, wild, lawless feel to the air. Everybody found themselves glancing over their shoulders as if something might leap out at them at any moment.

There might be castles and cities and farms hidden in the wilderness, probably were; but none of them were visible from the road. One felt that this was a deliberate choice, that the inhabitants of these lands didn't want outsiders passing through to know anything about them.

"Creepy," muttered Xander and everybody nodded.

Except for Spike. He was grinning. He reveled in risk, thrived on danger and enjoyed the wildness that made everyone else uneasy. Buffy found herself envying his recklessness. If it wasn't for the responsibility for the Scoobies weighing so heavily upon her, she might have shared that. The whole trip could have been a thrill ride.

But nothing really happened. Day after day passed with nothing to see but the road and the trees. They fetched water from the odd stream, collected firewood, shot the occasional rabbit to Anya's shuddering distaste, spent their nights uneasily camped on the road. On Lioslath's map, the little red dot that marked the wagon just crawled along.

"I keep feeling as if we're being watched," Willow said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Spike grinned at her. "Hair standing up, Red?"

"You know it. Freaky kind of feeling."

"The horses are calm," said Buffy. She was keeping an eye on them as they plodded along, using them as an extra early warning system, like canaries in a mine. She had her Slayer senses stretched out as far as they would go. "I don't feel anything. Spike?"

She knew that Spike was listening and watching too with his preternatural vamp abilities.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"I d-don't think it's physical," Tara murmured. "Mages can watch from a distance and Lioslath said the Quenya have their own mages."

"They can watch all they like as long as they don't send a long distance thunderbolt to fry us." Spike laughed as everybody winced. "Might, y'know."

"That'll make me sleep easier," muttered Xander with a resentful look at Spike.

Buffy gave Spike a warning glance, but he just shrugged unrepentantly, grinning. A doe ran across the road in front of them and Buffy raised her bow. Spike put out a hand and pushed the bow down as the doe broke through undergrowth.

"You won't get a clean shot, Slayer. You'll just wound it and then we'll have to follow it to put it out of its misery and that might take us too far from the road."

Buffy sighed as the doe disappeared into the twilight. "You haven't had any blood since that rabbit yesterday afternoon."

"I'll go hunting tonight."

"Don't get too far from the road."

"Just along it."

Something roared suddenly in the woods. "_Ah-oom, ah-oom!_"

It was a deep vibrating throb of sound that seemed to come from all directions at once, full of menace and hunger.

"Christ, what was that?" gasped Xander.

In the empty, darkening forest, the sound was terrifying. The girls shivered, clutching at each other. Buffy had an arrow ready and the string at full stretch as she swung the bow to cover every direction.

"Some kind of animal," said Spike sharply. "Predator. Look sharp!"

"Where...?" Everyone was staring wildly around.

"Don' know." Spike was clucking to the horses to calm them. They showed every sign of bolting. "Hunting call to frighten and confuse the prey. Tigers or wolves do that. Resonance effect. Can't tell which direction they're coming from. Wind's at our backs, dammit! Can't smell anything."

"_Ah-oom!_"

Something crashed in the woods and everybody whipped around. The doe fled back across the road behind them, running flat out, the whites of her eyes showing. She disappeared into the woods on the other side and vanished into deepening twilight. They stared north in the direction she had come from, clutching at the sides of the wagon to keep from being knocked over as the wheels jarred on the ruts in the road. The horses were galloping now and Spike didn't even try to check them.

A reverberating snarl came from the _south_, where the doe had run. They jerked around. There was a crash not too far from the road and the doe screamed pitiably. Then there was only a thrashing and a muffled worrying sound.

"Oh, God, that poor thing!" whispered Tara.

"Could have been our dinner, remember?" Spike said harshly. He slapped the reins on the horses' backs. They needed no encouragement. They were running as fast as they could. "Let's hope it makes a big enough meal to satisfy whatever was hunting it."

"Don't stop!" gasped Willow.

"Not stupid," muttered Spike.

They kept going until it was too dark to see their way. The forest was unusually still, even the tree-frogs and peepers silent. Only the thud of their horses' racing hooves and the creak of the wagon wheels and tack broke the silence. The normal tiny rustle of small animals going about their business in the night was non-existent, all of them huddling in their burrows or frozen into silence under some bush.

"Top of the food chain, whatever it was back there," Spike muttered, finally bringing the horses to a halt. They shivered and stamped, exhausted but wanting to keep on running. "Okay, we're a long way from it now. But let's get a fire going. Best defense."

The light bow Buffy was carrying would be useless against a large predator and the swords were only good for close fighting. Buffy might be a Slayer and Spike a vamp, but neither of them wanted to get up close and personal with some large, probably fanged and clawed animal. There was dry wood in the wagon. The group always collected some before leaving the previous stop and looked for more when they camped again. Tonight they wouldn't be scavenging for wood, except on the edges of the firelight, not until morning.

"No hunting tonight," Buffy said firmly to Spike and he gave her a wry glance.

"Not with that thing out there."

The horses were sweating and shuddering, clearly unhappy. Spike and Tara spent a long time rubbing them down and soothing them. They calmed finally and dropped their heads with tired sighs to the oats Tara provided.

"It's still too quiet," Buffy muttered to Spike. The forest was dead silent.

"I know. But the horses aren't freaking, so I think we're good. Everybody sleep in the wagon though. I'll take watch, keep the fire going. Tara can drive tomorrow while I sleep."

Buffy nodded. "We'll leave at first light."

"Good call."

Buffy slept only lightly, waking up every now and then at the quiet sounds of Spike collecting wood to keep the fire blazing high and chopping more to take with them tomorrow, his vamp ability to see in the dark telling him that it was safe. A stamp and snort from the horses much later brought her wide awake, sitting up sharply to see Spike on his feet, a sword in his left hand and a burning brand in the other. It was still dark, though a couple of sleepy chirps from some early bird told her it was nearly morning.

"What is it?"

"Something out there," said Spike softly. "Wake Red. Let Tara sleep. She'll have to drive tomorrow."

Buffy shook Willow awake.

"Red," Spike said quietly as she opened her mouth to protest. "Can you do a spell to keep the horses quiet? They run off, we'll be up shit creek."

"Yes," said Willow, wide awake now and in full possession of her faculties. To Buffy's relief, she didn't even question, just obeyed. The horses went statue still.

Buffy climbed out of the wagon, her sword in her hand, and accepted the flaming brand Spike handed her. He bent to take another for himself out of the fire.

"Can you see anything?" she murmured. Everything outside the circle of firelight was black to her eyes, but his vampire sight should be able to pick up more.

"No."

But they could both sense movement out there in the darkness.

"God, what is it?"

Silent, fluid motion in the dark. Something large, black against black so that they almost missed it. Then eyes caught the firelight, a scary flash of reflective green.

"Cat," muttered Spike. "Big cat."

There was a humming growl that seemed to come from all sides at once.

"Very big," said Spike under his breath just as Xander came flailing out of his blankets.

The eyes vanished.

"What?" gasped Xander. "What?"

"Gone now." Spike waved a hand impatiently at Xander. "Go back to sleep."

"You have got to be kidding!"

"Pussycat came visiting is all." He grinned at Buffy. "Suppose it wanted to see the queen."

Willow gave a more than somewhat hysterical giggle. "Really prefer it wouldn't climb into our laps to do that."

"Too damn close," Spike agreed. "Harris spooked it. Well, Harris spooks me, so I can't fault the cat. Think it's gone. You picking up anything, Slayer?"

She shook her head. "I think we're okay. It's almost morning. Everyone try to get some rest and we'll head out the minute it gets light."

Anya and Tara hadn't woken. Willow climbed back into the wagon and laid herself down, yanking her blankets right over her head. So did Xander. But Buffy knew they were both still wide awake and quaking.

"Cats avoid people, don't they?" Buffy muttered to Spike.

"Most do. Cougars and such like. The big four—tiger, lion, leopard, jaguar—they don't. And this one..."

"Was big." She let out a rueful breath. "No wonder travelers sometimes go missing."

"They're territorial. If we keep traveling nonstop tomorrow at the best pace the horses can make, we should be able to get out of its area."

'Yeah." She gave him a worried glance. "It might follow us."

"Shouldn't. Plenty of food here. Deer and pig. Certainly didn't have a hard time catching that doe. It'll get its belly full and forget all about us."

"Let's hope."

They got moving the minute there was any light to see by, not even waiting for breakfast, and kept going right throughout the day, eating bread and sausage in the wagon while Spike slept, stopping only to rest the horses. Tara drove and Buffy as usual rode shotgun.

Mid-afternoon, Spike woke up, stretched, then caught the flicker of Buffy's eye, silently calling him to join her up front.

"I'll take over now, Tara," he said and Tara gave him the reins, then climbed back into the wagon bed to allow him to take the driver's seat. He raised a brow at Buffy who flicked her gaze to one side meaningfully. He glanced that way. "Ah."

Something moved, just barely visible as it slid through the trees, a black shape pacing them, fluid and sinuous and powerful. Downwind, where it wouldn't be scented by the horses.

Spike jerked his head backwards and Buffy shook her head. No, she hadn't told the others yet.

"It's stalking us," she said under her breath, quietly so that only her Slayer and his vampire hearing would pick it up. "Black panther. That's a black leopard or jaguar, isn't it? Are they normally man-eaters?"

"Can be. Guess it wants some variety in its diet. Or had a taste previously and liked it."

"Great." Maybe the thing really had eaten other travelers. "We'll stop early. Get a lot of wood for fires. Circle ourselves with them."

"Yeah." His eyes widened suddenly. "Buffy! Look!"

A shaft of sunlight falling through the trees had caught the panther for a moment. Around its neck was a narrow yellow band inset with stones that flashed green in the sun, brilliant against the black pelt.

"It's wearing a collar!" Spike exclaimed.

"It's somebody's _pet_?" Buffy said incredulously.

"Hunting leopards. Read about that somewhere. Roman emperors used to have them. Nobility."

"Nobility! Lioslath said our safety depended on the whim of the lord through whose land we passed. The way it's following us...It wouldn't normally do that, would it?"

"Wouldn't think so."

"Somebody's set it on us! Somebody's playing games!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Xander said sharply.

Buffy sighed. There was no point in trying to hide it any longer. The panther had run lightly ahead of them and was now clearly in view, rolling luxuriously on a grassy knoll some distance from the road.

"Pussycat's back," said Spike.

"Oh, God!"

Everyone stared at the panther, which was now sitting comfortably on its stomach. It stretched its front paws, revealing enormous claws, then yawned. They found themselves looking right down its gullet, past formidable, gleaming, white fangs and a wide, red ribbon of tongue curled at the edges. Then the jaws snapped shut with a clearly audible snick, like a beartrap shutting.

"Don't let the horses run!" exclaimed Buffy.

"Are you nuts?" gasped Xander. "Let them run! Let them run! Let's get out of here!"

Anya gave a squeak of agreement, unable to speak. Willow and Tara just gasped.

"And trigger its chase reflexes?" Buffy snapped. "No. Spike, keep them steady."

"Yeah." Spike had a firm grip on the uneasy horses. Even though they couldn't scent the panther downwind, they knew that there was danger about.

"Willow, Tara! Any spells that might keep it away?"

"If we had our books! But we don't, Buffy!"

They had passed the panther now. It just lay there at the edge of the forest, watching them lazily through its dark green, inscrutable eyes as the wagon moved away from it.

"Buffy's a Slayer," said Xander suddenly. "And Spike's a vamp. They've fought things a lot worse than this."

"What am I supposed to do? Stake it?" snarled Buffy. "No weapons except these stupid swords."

"W-where did it go?" Tara exclaimed.

The panther was no longer in sight. The grassy knoll on which it had lain was empty.

"Back into the trees again," muttered Spike.

"Maybe it's gone," said Xander. "Maybe it got bored and it's gone away."

"Maybe it's playing cat and mouse," said Anya under her breath.

Buffy and Spike glanced at each other. They were pretty sure that was exactly what it was doing.

"Ahn!" snapped Xander.

"Cats can be incredibly patient when they're stalking something," Anya insisted. "They can spend hours at a mouse hole."

"Well, we're out in the open. It would have made a move by now."

"Maybe it's waiting for us to stop. Maybe the wagon makes it nervous. It wouldn't understand wagons and all the rattling and noise might be spooking it."

"Anya's got a point," said Willow. "If the wagon kept moving, it might not attack. Could we keep moving right through the night, Spike?"

"Wouldn't like to. Don't know the road. Hard enough to avoid potholes, rocks and other obstacles in full daylight. We lose a wheel or get jammed or have something happen to the horses, we're screwed."

"Better to stop before nightfall," said Buffy. "Circle ourselves with fires."

"Rather have something at my back," muttered Spike. He pointed forward. "Like that cliff. Too high for the thing to get up on and jump down on us. Stone at our backs, fire in front. Better odds."

"It curves a bit too." Buffy was studying the cliff face narrowly. "There. See, Spike? That would shield our flanks at least a little."

"But it's way off the road!" Willow objected. "Lioslath said never to leave the road."

Tara nodded. "Maybe wh-what's keeping us safe is not the wagon, but the road."

Xander stared at them. "Why would the road keep us safe? Like an animal would know about roads! You think it signed some damn treaty?"

"Is the road magicked in some way?" Buffy asked, but both witches shook their heads.

"Doesn't feel like it," Willow admitted.

"It's the wagon then," said Spike. "Which means that when we stop and the wagon stops rattling the way it does, the cat might strike. We've still got three hours of daylight left, Slayer. We could keep traveling or we could make for that cliff. Your call."

"Wish there was a cave in that cliff," Buffy muttered. "Then we would only have to defend the entrance. But that cliff's still the best chance we've got. I don't think we'll find anything better down the road. But how would we get the wagon through the trees? We don't dare leave it and walk."

"There's a stream there. Can you see it? Goes pretty close to the cliff. We could drive the wagon up it. Hard on the horses and on the wagon, but it's our best bet."

They did that, Spike coaxing the horses along while Buffy and Xander cut away overhanging branches with the hand axes Lioslath had provided for cutting firewood. It took almost an hour to work their way as close to the cliff face as they could.

"We'll leave the wagon where it is. Slayer, you get everyone to the cliff. Take the firewood we've got with you and start collecting more once you're there. I'll bring the horses."

Everyone grabbed the firewood Spike had collected before they left their last campsite, then ran towards the cliff while Spike tossed his duster into the wagon and stepped into the stream to free the horses from their traces. By the time he led them along to the cliff face, the Scoobies had dug a shallow firepit and piled it with wood. Buffy was just bending to light it with Spike's Zippo when a humming growl sounded, echoing off the cliff face so that it seemed to come from all directions.

"Christ! Back against the wall, everyone! Tara, Willow!" Spike flung them the reins of the horses. "Do that spell that keeps them still! Don't lose them, whatever happens!"

"Right!"

They needed that fire. Spike grabbed a hand axe, not having time to catch up a sword, and stepped in front of Buffy to cover her as she lit it.

A streak of black flashed at them, coming from an unexpected tangent and heading straight for Buffy as she tried to light the fire. Spike caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye at the last second.

"No!"

He whirled and flung the hand axe at it. The panther squalled as the axe struck home, knocking it sideways as Buffy somersaulted backwards out of its path. She came up clutching a sword as the cat landed on the piled wood, its scrabbling hind legs scattering the split logs everywhere. No fire possible until they got that gathered again.

Willow was making that movement of her hand that meant she was throwing a spell, but she missed as the panther changed directions and flung itself at Spike. The axe had hit it at an angle, chopping away a slice of skin and muscle from its shoulder, but doing no other useful damage except to infuriate it. It was snarling continuously, its fangs bared.

Spike was snarling also, his own fangs bared, in full gameface. He ducked as the cat slashed at him. Then he had one of its powerful forearms in his grip. He threw himself backwards, one foot up into its belly, and tossed it over his head. They both tumbled over the grass, away from the cliff face and the Scoobies cowering there.

Spike got a glimpse of Buffy running towards them, then braking abruptly as a flash of yellow came from the side, knocking Xander over. It came to a snarling stop in front of Buffy. Oh, God, there were two of them! This one was a regular leopard, not a panther. He couldn't do anything about it. Stopping the panther needed all his attention. He had to trust Buffy to take care of the newcomer.

The panther had regained its feet and was leaping towards him. He couldn't meet it face to face. A clinch would mean either having his jugular torn out by its huge fangs or his guts disemboweled by those powerful hind legs. He had seen felines fight, back legs ripping and tearing. He threw himself sideways. Its claws raked his chest, then he was under that arm and against its side. His left arm was under its armpit and his left hand and forearm gripped the back of its neck. He had a half-nelson on it.

It squalled, throwing itself about so violently that he could only cling desperately to the leaping, turning, twisting body while it battered him against the ground, trying to escape his hold. Then his feet got purchase and he heaved himself right across its back, his legs wound about it and his right arm struggling to get the same hold as his left. A twist and there it was, a full-nelson, both his arms under its armpits and his hands locked together on the back of its neck, wrists braced on its metal collar. Spike snarled in triumph and pushed down with both hands and all his strength.

There was no more lunging about now. The two lay perfectly still upon the ground, Spike on his back with his arms and legs locked about the cat on its back on top of him, its paws in the air so that it was unable to find leverage. He forced the cat's huge head slowly lower and lower towards its chest, even those powerful, big cat muscles unable to overcome vamp strength. At some point, its neck would break.

Everyone's attention was on that silent struggle—Spike putting on the pressure, the cat strongly resisting it. Buffy was trying desperately to get to Spike, had been right from the beginning of the fight. But the leopard wasn't allowing it. Snarling and snapping, it got in the way whenever Buffy tried to get around it, and simply slid away whenever Buffy tried to rush it. It made no move to attack, just evaded every slash she made with the sword, then positioned itself once again between Buffy and the fight, keeping her from helping Spike. It too wore a collar of yellow metal that looked like gold, this one with red stones instead of green.

"Enough!"

Everybody whipped around, except for Spike and the panther, too focused on their deadly struggle to be aware of anything else.

Forms were sifting out of the forest, men and women in black leather pants, boots and sleeveless vests, the men's vests hanging open, the women's held together by thongs. Gold studs gleamed in their ears; jeweled gold bands hung from supple throats and circled smooth, powerful limbs. They were all big and tall, their skin color light beneath the tan, their hair color ranging all the way from blonde on one individual to black on another. Quenya.

"Call off your warrior."

Buffy stared at the man who spoke. He seemed somewhere between thirty-five and forty, in the full strength of his prime, gold-brown hair, massive gold-tanned body, spectacularly handsome as all these people were. But the air of authority about him and the way the others circled about and guarded him suggested that he was their leader.

"Why should I?"

"I value that cat."

"We were being harassed and attacked by that cat."

"You should not have been. You are not of the Diarchy, but you carry the sigil." He indicated the pendant hanging at Buffy's breastbone. "I have a son on the edge of manhood who is a fool. He will be chastised for this."

Adolescents a problem in any dimension? Buffy grinned involuntarily.

"Will we be able to pass unharmed?"

"My word upon it. And I am Kiharn, not least among the lords of the Querid."

Buffy turned her head. "Spike!"

The tableau on the grass didn't change. From the looks of things, the cat's neck was nearing breaking point.

"Spike, let it go!"

No response.

"Battle madness," said Kiharn mildly. "You will permit?"

"Go ahead," said Buffy, wondering how many of his people would get sliced and diced by the cat while breaking the two of them apart.

Kiharn touched a medallion hanging from his neck. The cat squalled and Spike yelped. His hands jerked away from its neck. The cat jumped forward ten feet. Spike jumped back ten, shaking his hands as if they burned. The cat spun around and crouched, snarling.

"No!" thundered Kiharn and touched the medallion again.

The cat leaped straight up into the air, squalling, then came down and raced off into the forest, snarling and snapping and slashing at branches, in a perfect fury. The leopard ran after it.

"You control them by the collar."

"It is necessary at that age before they have full control of their reflexes. A slightly painful burning sensation. It will not have harmed your warrior."

Something like an electric shock, Buffy thought. Spike seemed to have gotten over it, was just rubbing his wrists as he turned to stare at them.

"You are not of the Diarchy," Kiharn said.

"No."

"This needs explanation."

"Are you the authority here?"

"I am lord of this domain."

"Do you understand about dimensions?"

Kiharn frowned. "What is that?"

"Um, we may have a problem."

Willow raised a hand hesitantly. "Uh, sir? A mage might be able to explain things. That's what happened back in the Diarchy."

Kiharn's face cleared. "I have a mage at my manor. Will you come there? Your journey might be extended by a couple of days, but it will prove easier in the end."

Buffy nodded. It seemed only sensible to comply. Lioslath had been worried about the Quenya's reaction to them, but Kiharn and his people seemed reasonable at the moment and she didn't want to get their backs up. None of the Quenya carried any weapons, not even swords or daggers. But those cats they controlled made them lethal enough. She shuddered at the thought of a whole whack of big cats aimed at them.

"Thank you, sir. We would be glad to come."

"Good. My people will guide you."

He turned without another word and went off into the forest. Most of the Quenya went with him. Three stayed—two men and a woman. The woman seemed to be in charge. She was very lovely, with a heavy fall of copper hair, and a lean, lithe body that moved like that of a warrior. They all moved like warriors.

"I am Serrai," she said. "Of my lord's family."

"You are his wife?"

"His mate? No. Only his sister. He has many relations. It is a large family. And you are?"

"Buffy." It seemed simpler to stick with first names. She introduced the others, except for Spike who seemed to have disappeared.

Serrai nodded to them, but her attention was on the horses.

"How do you keep them so calm?" she asked.

Buffy wondered what she meant. The horses were sweating nervously, the whites of their eyes showing.

"Uh, Willow and Tara are controlling them."

"You are mages?"

"Sort of," mumbled Willow. "Getting there."

"They will not be happy near us. The cat scent upon us disturbs them. You must calm them for the time you are with us."

"We will."

"What is wrong with that one?" she asked, looking down at Tara and Anya working on the cuts left on Xander's calf when the leopard had knocked him over.

"He was clawed."

Serrai's brows rose. "That? It is nothing, only a scratch. My children harm each other more when they play."

"Well, it hurts," said Xander resentfully.

"A-and it will take a while to heal," explained Tara, patting his shoulder comfortingly as she put the bottle of antiseptic back into the box of medical odds and ends that Lioslath had provided.

"Why do you not mend the other one? The one who fought for you. He was clawed too."

"He's a vampire," growled Xander. "He'll heal by tomorrow."

"Does it not still hurt? If this small scratch hurts you, do not gashes to the bone hurt him?"

Tara's head came up sharply. "What?"

"Did you not know? Rihar slashed him." Serrai spread her fingers into a claw shape and drew them down from her right collarbone all the way to her left hip. "I saw."

Tara snatched up the first aid box and leaped to her feet. "Where's Spike?"

"By the stream," said Serrai. "Beside your wagon."

Tara ran.

Willow started to get to her feet too, but Buffy shook her head.

"You and Anya stay with Xander. We'll take care of this."

Then she ran after Tara.

Spike was sitting on a flat rock beside the stream. He had his T-shirt off and wadded up, and was bending weakly over to wet it. Tara skidded onto her knees beside him and snatched it from his hand.

"Spike! Why didn't you tell us?"

He blinked at her in surprise. "Just a cut. Thanks for the concern, Glinda, but no need to panic."

"It's bad."

It was bad, Buffy saw as she arrived on his other side. She sucked in a breath of concern. The panther's claws had slashed from his shoulder diagonally across to his hip. At the top, the slashes were so deep that his collarbone showed white within them, but they trailed off as they went lower, going down to half-inch-deep tears in the muscle by the time they reached his stomach, then to only shallow scratches as they reached his hip.

"Damn nearly got yourself gutted, Spike," she said, her tone more gentle than the words suggested.

He grinned ruefully, then winced as Tara carefully washed away the blood from his shoulder.

"Was careless. Not used to fighting cats."

"Must hurt."

"Bloody does."

"Why did you do it? Slightly different angle and those claws could have ripped out your heart. You would have dusted."

"Heat of the moment. Didn't think." He gave her a twisted grin. "Did you worry about me, Slayer?"

"Yes, I did." She saw his eyes widen. He hadn't expected that answer.

"Get that stuff away from me, Glinda!" He pushed away the bottle of antiseptic Tara had taken out of the first aid box. "That really will hurt and it's not necessary. Vamps don't get sepsis. Just wash away the blood and slap some tape on to hold the edges together. I'll be fine in a couple of days."

"It needs stitches," said Tara worriedly.

"No, it doesn't. Vamps heal fast and the stitches can get healed over. Then it bloody hurts to get them out. Tape's all I need."

But they could both see that his teeth were clenched tight and he was fighting not to pass out as Tara cleaned the gashes and taped the edges carefully together. Buffy put an arm around his back and felt him sag for a moment against her shoulder.

"Thanks, Slayer," he muttered blurrily.

She could see the astonishment in his face. "You took that for us."

"Cat pissed me off."

"You fought well," said Serrai, coming down the bank towards them.

Spike grinned woozily at her. "And who might you be, gorgeous?"

"Serrai of the lord's personal guard." She smiled back, her gaze moving over him appreciatively.

Buffy frowned. She didn't like Serrai looking at Spike like that. Buffy looked at him herself, trying to see what Serrai was seeing. It wasn't difficult. Whoa. Whoever thought that was what he looked like under that T-shirt? Totally ripped. Solid, hard muscle; lickable sixpack; clean, fine bone; sleek, silken, alabaster skin. Not overly pumped, a fighter's supple, lithe body, completely in balance. The Quenya were like that, all supple power. No wonder Serrai looked like she could eat him up. He was perfect.

"That hold you used is strange to us," Serrai was saying. "We must remember that."

"Hadn't used it myself before. Unarmed combat against a cat." He grinned. "That's new. Had to improvise."

"Most impressive."

Spike caught his breath involuntarily as Tara ran gauze across the length of the wound to keep the crosshatches of tape clean. "Easy, Glinda. Thought you were less hamhanded than that."

"You need some painkillers." Tara climbed into the wagon and dug around in her purse, then came up triumphantly with a little bottle. "I knew I had some."

Spike swallowed the tablets Tara shook into his hand, then scooped up a palmful of water from the stream to wash them down.

"You're awfully pale," said Tara worriedly.

"Vamps are always pale."

"You need blood."

Buffy gasped, realizing: "He hasn't had any blood for two days!"

"And he's lost a lot today."

"What is this?" Serrai asked.

"He's a vampire and they need blood to survive," Buffy explained. "He hasn't been able to hunt for two days because of the cat."

"No difficulty. We can hunt for him. Will a piglet do? There is a litter not far from here."

Both Buffy and Spike nodded. But Tara was still looking worried.

"He'll be a long time healing with just animal blood, Buffy."

"Well, we can't give him human blood, Tara!"

Serrai was looking confused. "Pig's blood is not enough?"

Buffy explained the nature of a vamp, watching Serrai anxiously for signs of alarm or horror. But Serrai just looked interested.

"So the death of the prey is not necessary. You do not have to take all."

"More powerful with the death," said Spike. "But can do without as long as it's live blood. Fresh blood," he explained when Serrai's brows rose in question. "Not bagged or stored."

"Oh, yes." She shuddered delicately. "Long dead blood or meat is carrion. Filthy stuff."

"That's what I keep saying." Spike grinned triumphantly at Buffy. "See, she understands."

"No, I do not," said Serrai and Buffy smirked at Spike. "If it's only a little and recovery is assured for the one who gives it, why do you people not give him yours?"

Buffy's grin vanished. Spike gave an involuntary crack of laughter, then clutched at the bandages over his stomach.

"Oh, God, it hurts to laugh! You don't get it, Serrai. Slayer exists to protect humans from vamps. Can't let me feed on one."

"But he took the wound in your defense," said Serrai, frowning at Buffy. "It is only right to feed him if he needs it."

"Gotta love this!" said Spike in helpless amusement as Buffy and Tara exchanged stunned and desperate glances, trying to think of a way to explain.

"First causes," said Serrai thoughtfully. "Rihar did this. And Rihar is ours. _We _are therefore responsible. Can you drink Quenya blood, vampire?"

Spike stared at her. "Don' know. Most likely. Are you offering?"

She sat down on the rock beside him. "Yes. How is it done?"

Spike shot Buffy and Tara a wild glance. They stared back at him, their mouths open, completely beyond words.

"I drink from a vein. Usually, uh, here." He brushed the side of her neck, pushing back the heavy fall of her copper hair.

"It will be a new experience. Drink then. I enjoy new experiences."

"Well, you're gonna enjoy this one," said Spike and bit.

Buffy started to jerk forward, then stopped, confused as to what she should be doing about this. It wasn't even by force, the way he had taken blood from those two girls back at the inn. Serrai had volunteered. And he wasn't hurting her. Serrai looked as if she really was enjoying it. Her eyes were sensuously half-closed and her hand had come up to hold Spike's mouth to her neck. It didn't even look bad, Spike was being so delicate and precise about it. No gushing gouts of blood, no mess. But then, why would a vamp waste blood like that? It even looked more like a kiss than feeding.

So why was she so angry?

After a while, Spike raised his head. The puncture marks on Serrai's neck were closed. There was not even a trickle of blood.

"Vamp saliva seals the wound," he explained at Buffy's astounded look.

"You took so long! Did you take too much?" she demanded accusingly.

"Longer the better. Stretches out the high."

"That was extremely pleasurable," murmured Serrai, unintentionally confirming that. "Is it always like that for your prey?"

"If we wish it." Spike smiled down at her. "Thank you."

"Any time," purred Serrai and they both laughed.

"Not for a week though. You need to make up the blood loss. That was strange blood. Different." Spike was looking at her with interest. "Something unusual there."

"Oh, we are an unusual people. I am glad the experience was good for you too."

"It was." They grinned at each other.

"Wh-why don't you rest in the wagon while we bring the horses down and get them h-hitched, Spike?" Tara stammered, freaked out not by the bite, but by the frozen look on Buffy's face.

"Yeah, think I will," muttered Spike, which meant that he was feeling worse than he admitted.

Tara helped Spike into the wagon, tucked his duster around him, then affectionately patted his uninjured shoulder.

"Now you just stay there. We can take care of anything that needs to be done. Sleep if you can. It'll help you heal."

"Thanks, luv." His eyes were already closing, unable to stay open, his body shutting down as it went into healing mode.

"I'll go check on Xander," said Tara with a nervous glance at Buffy and shot up the bank.

Serrai stretched luxuriously, then got up and fell into step with Buffy as she headed back to the cliff face.

"Perhaps you should rest for a while," said Buffy stiffly. "The blood loss, you know."

"No. I am more than well. A very pretty male, that one. And, even better, an excellent warrior." She glanced sideways at Buffy. "Did I step upon your tail?"

"What?"

"You are angered."

"I'm not angry!" But she was. Worse than that, she was jeal...No, she was not! Not at all! Not over Spike!

"Do you mate with him?"

"What? No!"

"I didn't think so when you would not give him your blood. But it is always best to make sure. Feuds have started over less. Good. I will attempt him once he is healed."

"You do that," said Buffy through clenched teeth and glared at Serrai's back as the Quenya strode happily up the bank.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Spike slept all the way to Kerikasek, Kiharn's manor house. Buffy had expected something like a castle or, at the very least, a fortified stronghold. The building certainly was built out of stone, but it was simply a huge, rambling, two-storey structure covering more ground that she could see, a warren of uncountable rooms and passageways, busy with people and shouting children. When Serrai had said Kiharn had a large family, she hadn't been kidding. There were hundreds of them, a whole clan all related to an nth degree of blood.

There was no formality, no state. When they arrived, the wagon and horses were taken off to an enclosed field that had been contrived for them, since the Quenya apparently kept no livestock. The humans and Spike were ushered into a wide room that seemed to be Kiharn's study, airy and open, the walls pigeonholed with pockets filled with scrolls, the huge table cluttered with books and papers, but everything looking neat and organized. Sunset light was pouring through a large, unglassed, round window. Kiharn waved them in and gestured to them to take seats where they would.

"Summon Isayel," he said to Serrai. "And when my son deigns to arrive, send him to me at once."

"Lord." Serrai bowed and went out.

"Ale, wine, spirits?" he said to the rest of them. "We trade with the Diarchy for them, so the quality is good."

"Ale," said Buffy, since that was the mildest, and everyone else nodded.

"They make a good brandy too," Spike murmured to the ceiling and Kiharn grinned.

"They do." He poured Spike one and took another for himself while the others passed around the ale jug, then threw himself down in a massive armchair that creaked under his weight. "You smell different from these others," he said to Spike, then glanced at Anya. "And you too, though much less."

"Lioslath called us Other," said Spike.

"The Diarchy's western mage. They call us Other too. They are all one piece, the Diarchy's people. We are many kinds. Other is not a problem for us. Ah, Isayel. Come." He waved in the woman standing at the door.

Unlike Lioslath, she had no tattoos on her ivory skin and, though she looked only in her mid-thirties, her hair fell in thick, silken, pure white waves to her waist. The robes she wore were white also, the only color about her the blue of her eyes and the gold of the stud in her ear. She was not built like Kiharn's people; she was leaner and slighter. Kiharn bulked over her. But that didn't lessen her in the least. She had presence and that presence was familiar.

"Our mage," said Kiharn unnecessarily. They had guessed that already. "Explain to her. She will explain to me."

Buffy did so. Isayel comprehended their situation as quickly as Lioslath had and laid it out for Kiharn in terms he could understand.

"Different worlds," he said, shaking his head. "As if we do not have problems enough with ours without having yours thrust upon us. Where is this Gate you speak of?"

Buffy unrolled the map and pointed out the gold star Lioslath had marked on it. Isayel's brows went up.

"Dihurnin," she said with a rueful look at Kiharn.

"Well and well. The Pyarren. Also, the Packlands lie between." He looked at the Scoobies' puzzled faces. "Pyar and her people are fiercely independent and brook no rivals. Your Gate lies at Dihurnin, which is a temple they hold dear."

"It could not be worse," murmured Isayel.

"No, no. There may be a solution. One I have been considering for some time. It may be possible to bring down two quarries with one charge."

The black panther strolled through the open doors of the study.

Xander yelped. The girls squeaked. Buffy and Spike tensed. The panther looked at them and snarled. Kiharn got up, walked over to it and walloped it hard across the head.

It was a massive buffet, but still it was a shock to them that the blow knocked the panther right off its feet. It hit the ground, rolled, then came up with a scrabble of claws on the stone flags and crouched, spitting furiously.

"Kiharn!" exclaimed a woman standing at the door. She was raven-haired and strikingly beautiful.

"I have reached the end of my patience, Marissa! We have left him free too long. He is nearing the point of challenge. Should he do so, I will kill him."

He hit the panther again. It snarled and one of its huge paws came up reflexively, but it didn't slash.

The Scoobies were all on their feet and backed against the far wall, Xander looking as if he wished he could climb it. Buffy was in a fighting position in front of them. Only Spike hadn't moved. He was looking amused and sipping at his brandy.

"Remember the collar," he said over his shoulder to them and Buffy relaxed. The collar did give Kiharn control over the panther.

Kiharn glanced at them, then frowned at how scared they looked.

"And now you are frightening my guests," he roared at the panther. "Have we not taught you manners?"

The panther flexed. Bones cracked and shifted, fur receded, muscles rearranged itself. The entire transformation took less than a few seconds. One moment a panther was crouching on the floor, the next a tall man was standing glaring at Kiharn. He was black-haired and around twenty and he had the panther's forest-green eyes and he was wearing the Quenya's usual uniform of black leather vest, pants and boots. The gold collar still banded his throat and there was a clotting wound on his bare shoulder.

"Werewolf!" gasped Xander. "I mean, werecat!"

"Oh...my!" Buffy heard Anya breathe behind her. She grinned involuntarily. She couldn't blame Anya. The panther's human shape was seriously gorgeous, all that rippling muscle and sleek skin, plus a breathtakingly handsome face.

"How do you manage the clothes?" Willow asked Isayel numbly.

Isayel touched the stud in her ear, smiling. "This is bespelled. Several centuries ago, we became tired of shifting back to human only to find our clothes left fifty miles behind us. So we found a solution."

"We? Are you all...do you all change like that?"

"Oh, yes."

"Demons! They're all demons!" Xander was muttering.

"To have my son the cause of war with the Diarchy!" Kiharn was thundering. "What were you thinking of? Travelers on the road are sacrosanct! How dare you endanger the treaty, Rihar?"

"I never touched them on the road!" Rihar snarled. "Once they left the road, they were fair game!"

"Fool!" Kiharn clouted him across the ear again and Rihar bared his teeth. "Apologize!"

"For what?"

"Do it!"

Rihar glowered at them. "I am sorry, but you gave away your protection. I did not take it from you."

"What kind of apology is that?" Kiharn snapped.

"The only one they're going to get." He looked at Spike and grinned. "Marked you."

Spike grinned back and jerked his chin at Rihar's shoulder. "Got you too."

"It was a good fight. We should try it again in human form."

"Happy to take you on, cat, once I'm healed."

"Oh, get out of my sight!" Kiharn snarled.

Rihar gave them all a vivid smile of sudden, startling beauty and turned on his heel.

"Am I drooling?" Anya asked Tara under her breath.

"Yes," said Tara simply.

Rihar's step checked for a second and he gave Anya a narrow, inscrutable glance before striding out of the door.

"Sons!" muttered Kiharn. "Give me daughters any day. Daughters fight at your side. Sons you have at your throat. Serrai!"

"Lord."

"Have chambers been prepared for our guests?"

"Yes, lord."

"Show them the way. I may have a solution to your difficulties," he said to Buffy. "But I must have time to think. Will you remain with us for a day or so?"

"Thank you. We would be honored."

They had been given six rooms along one passageway.

"You will of course have your own sleeping arrangements," said Serrai with a laughing, sideways glance. "But a certain amount of privacy is pleasant between bouts. We find it so anyway."

"Um, yes," said Buffy, while Spike tried not to laugh. Everyone else was looking embarrassed.

"Meals will be brought to you in your rooms tonight. Many of us prefer to do our own hunting, so you might hear activity during the night. We are nocturnal. Do not let it trouble you. Oh, and do not feel yourself constrained to remain in your rooms. Everyone has been warned about you, even the children, and you will in no way be harmed."

"Thank you."

"The cubs get everywhere though. If you find one in your room, feel free to smack it and kick it right out."

"Uh, okay."

"We've got to get out of here," Xander hissed once Serrai had gone. "My God, they're all werewolves. Cats. Whatever!"

Buffy hurriedly pushed him into the first room, the others coming in behind them. Spike shut the door and leaned against it.

"Keep your voice down, Xander! We don't want to upset them and who knows how good their hearing is!"

"Damn good, I'd say," Spike muttered. "But it's okay. Don't think anyone's listening."

"We're not safe here!" Xander said. "These 'were' whatevers..."

"Not 'were'," corrected Spike. "'Were' are humans who partially change to mindless animals on the three or four nights the full moon forces it on them. These are Shifters. They shift body shape fully from human to animal, but retain human intelligence and can change at will."

"That's worse! They're all demons! They'll tear us to pieces! Buffy, we've got to get out of here!"

"And go where?"

"We're safe on the road! Isn't that what that damn panther said? He couldn't touch us while we were on the road."

"This Dihurnin place where the Gate is isn't on the road. It's a hell of a long way from it. And Kiharn said another clan guards it."

"Pride," murmured Spike. "Not 'clan,' but 'pride.' They're cats after all. And he said there were Packlands between. Pack. That suggests wolves or even hyenas."

"Oh, God!" Xander moaned. "You mean there's more than one kind?"

"Lions and tigers and bears, oh my," grinned Spike. "Yeah, sounds like."

"Let's go back," Xander begged. "We could go back to that fishing village and wait for that wizard guy to fix the Gate. At least the people in the Diarchy are human! No wonder they're all scared of the Quenya!"

"The Quenya are Shifters, not demons," said Spike. "And they're peaceful. Not non-harmful, of course, but certainly showing no hostile intentions towards us. Kiharn's even trying to figure out a way to get us to the Gate."

"They're demons! They could change their minds any second!"

"Turn back and they could take it as a slap in the face. An insult." He shook his head at Buffy. "Not a good idea, Slayer."

"And we're days from the border," said Buffy. "If we offend them, we might have them after us all the way. There are hundreds of them. We had a hard enough time holding off one cat. Rather not have hundreds coming at us."

"You can't trust them!" Xander yelled.

"Just because they're different?" sighed Anya. "Come on, Xander. Don't be so prejudiced."

"You're on their side, aren't you? Just because you were a demon. Well, we're human! We're not gonna trust our lives to these soulless things!"

The temperature of the room suddenly dropped to way below freezing.

"You're never going to forget that, are you?" said Anya. "I'm sick of apologizing for it and having you throw it right back in my face five minutes later! I don't know why I put up with it so long! I don't need you, Xander. I don't know why I thought I did. That wizard showed me I can stand on my own feet!"

She whirled and stalked out of the room. Xander ran after her.

"Anya! No! I didn't mean it that way!"

"You did! You say you don't, but that's the way you think. Hell with you." She shoved him back into the room. "That's your room. Stay there. I'm taking the one on the other end. I don't want to see your face tonight!"

"Ahn!"

Willow and Tara grabbed at him.

"B-better give her some time to cool down, Xander," Tara said. "You'll just make thing w-worse if you go after her now."

"I'll take the room beside her," said Buffy quickly. "That way I can keep an eye on her. She'll be safe, Xander, I promise, and we can talk about all this in the morning."

"But..."

"It's almost night, Xander. We can't leave here tonight. I don't know the way back to the road and I'm not going to flounder around in the dark. We'll talk all of this over tomorrow."

She was watching Spike heading down the hallway. He was bracing himself with one straight arm against the wall as he went, which told her he was nearing the end of his strength. He went into the room two doors up from Anya, leaving the room next to her for Buffy, but still putting as much distance between him and Xander as he could. Xander hadn't done himself much good tonight with either demon or ex-demon, and she shuddered to think how he might conduct himself with the Quenya in the days to come. Hysterics were so not of the good when dealing with the unknown.

Leaving Willow and Tara to look after Xander and decide on how they wanted to allocate the other rooms, she went and tapped on Spike's door.

"Yeah, Slayer," he called tiredly from inside, scenting who it was even through the thick wood of the door.

Buffy went in and found him sitting on the side of a wide, round bed, wearily toeing off his Docs.

"You okay?"

He grinned muzzily at her. "Will be once I get through the healing process. Body's working on that right now. Just keep that pillock away from me. Might lose my temper and whack him a good one. God, he's such a berk!"

"Has a problem with demons."

"Tell me about it."

"Are the Quenya demons, Spike?"

"If your definition is something other than human, well, yeah, they are. If you're asking do they have souls or not, how the hell should I know, Slayer? That's your bailiwick, innit, this soul thing?" He stood up, wobbling a little, to shove the coverlet back. "Question is, does it matter? You're the only one who can answer that, Slayer."

Buffy was looking around the room, at the big bed, comfortable armchairs, wardrobe, dresser with mirror. "They've got themselves pretty well set up, haven't they?"

Spike laughed. "Now that you know they can turn into cats, you think all they need is a cave or the branch of a tree? That show-off, Dracula, is able to turn himself into a bat, but you don't see him hanging upside down from the roof of some dank cave. One gets all the creature comforts one can for both sides of the equation. Why not?"

Why not indeed? She watched him climb painfully into bed, favoring his shoulder, and yank the coverlet over himself. He was still wearing his jeans.

"Won't you be uncomfortable sleeping with your jeans on?"

"Yeah, but what the hell. 'S only for one night. It hurts to bend," he explained drowsily. "Be okay in the morning."

"Um." She walked forward to the foot of the bed, flipped the coverlet up to expose his feet and grabbed his jeans at the ankles. "Unzip and I'll yank 'em off."

"Okay. Commando here, though." He grinned at her. "No underwear. Guess I'd better not throw the coverlet back, huh?"

"Damn right you better not!"

She heard the hiss of the zip, then he twisted to work the jeans down off his hips. His shoulders flexed involuntarily as he pushed at them and he caught his breath.

"Don't think this is going to work, luv. Can't get them off. Unless I stand up for you to shove 'em down and then you'd get an eyeful." He was laughing helplessly.

He would have to wear tight jeans. Another problem was that he would have to raise his hips from the bed to allow her to yank the jeans out from under him, which meant that he would have to transfer his weight onto his elbows and shoulderblades, and that would hurt his wounded shoulder.

Buffy growled. She never liked to give up on something she started.

"Can you roll over onto your stomach without hurting yourself?"

His brows rose, then he did, slowly and carefully. "Now what?"

"Just lie still and try not to flex that wound."

Buffy shoved her hands under the covers and grabbed the waistband of his jeans at the sides. He went absolutely still in surprise, then twisted his head to look at her over his shoulder. His one visible eye was alight with laughter. Her hands slid along the satin skin of his hips as she yanked his jeans down and she bit her lip. Despite her care, the covers fell back a little as she stepped back to pull his jeans off the rest of the way and she got a good view of his supple back and taut ass. A really biteable ass. And she so did not just think that!

She yanked the jeans off and the covers back fully over him.

"You'd better turn over again," she muttered in a tightly controlled voice. "It's not good to keep lying on that wound."

"Uh, when you're gone, Slayer." The feel of her hands sliding down his naked hips had given Spike an instantaneous hard-on and he knew absolutely he was going to tent the covers if he rolled over.

Slayer had turned bright red, so he was pretty sure she knew too. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Slayer ripping my pants off. They're never going to believe this back in Sunnydale."

"You tell anyone and I dust you, Spike! Don't care if we're friends or not."

Then she realized what she had said and whipped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He stared after her, his jaw hanging.

Friends?

* * *

><p>Okay, she wasn't going to think about the very sexy vamp in the room next door.<p>

Friends! When had she started thinking of Spike as a friend?

Worse, when had she started thinking of him as _sexy_? Buffy groaned, then yanked the pillow over her face and screamed into it.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why the hell was she so freaking turned on by him, all of a sudden?

Ever since that moment he'd kissed her back on the beach. Something in her had responded, jumped to attention. She couldn't stop being aware of him, couldn't block him out the way she had so successfully back in Sunnydale.

It had to be something about this crazy dimension. The wildness, the lawlessness here. They were all acting strange. Anya turning all pissy about the way Xander was, which was the way he had always been and which she had never objected to before. Xander freaking out about the magics and the weirdness surrounding them, which admittedly he had never had a high tolerance for. Willow and Tara, on the other hand, clearly enjoying those magics and liking that people accepted them as mages, instead of thinking of them as weirdos. Spike turning all helpful and protective and getting himself badly hurt in their defense.

They had to get back to Sunnydale, that was all there was to it. Things would get back to normal then. She and Spike could go back to trying to kill each other again, the way it should be. He'd stop acting as if he had a soul and things would all make sense once more.

This soul thing. Did the Quenya have souls? _Does it matter?_ said Spike in her head.

It did matter. It should matter. Giles and the Council were insistent about that. So why was she suddenly having doubts?

Dammit, she was never going to get any sleep!

Her mind wouldn't settle and the constant movement in the night didn't help. Her conscious mind knew it was just the Quenya on the prowl, but her Slayer senses kept waking her up to alert her to it. Morning came to find her heavy-eyed and exhausted.

She could have screamed when Xander walked right into her room and started an argument before she had time to get her head together or could even have breakfast. At least he gave her time to wash and use the facilities in the small garderobe attached to the room, but she had a feeling that it was by accident rather than on purpose. Willow and Tara were dragged into the fracas too. Anya sensibly took one look as she passed the door Xander had left open, shrugged amusedly at Buffy and simply walked away. Through the bedroom window, Buffy could see her sitting on a ledge in the sunshine, eating slices of melon. Buffy wished she could join her.

Spike, thank the Lord, was still asleep. If he'd been up, he wouldn't have been able to resist needling Xander, driving Xander to further excesses of rhetoric. Buffy would probably have ended up slaying them both.

As it was, Xander was going squirrelly. He kept bringing up the same arguments over and over, as if he weren't listening to anything anybody else said, and there was a hectic flush of color over his cheekbones. He was sweating heavily and looked feverish.

Buffy managed to get Tara into a corner while Xander was occupied arguing with Willow.

"Something's wrong with Xander," she said and Tara's eyes widened. "He looks sick."

Tara went over and laid the back of her hand against Xander's forehead. "Xander, are you feeling all right?"

"No. I feel lousy. I have a headache and I'm burning up and my throat hurts."

"I've got some aspirin in my bag. I wish I had a thermometer. You feel awfully hot to me. Why don't you come lie down in your room?"

All three of them helped him there, because he was wobbling now as he walked. They got him to lie down on his bed, then Tara, struck by a sudden thought, pulled up the leg of his pants to check the claw marks on his calf. They looked red and angry.

"Buffy, maybe you should get Isayel."

Isayel came and looked him over.

"Mm," she said thoughtfully, studying the scratches, then checked the lymph nodes in his armpits. "Swollen. We have seen this before. Usually only the cubs get it when they scratch each other playing."

"Not adults?"

"No, but adults of the Diarchy can come down with a severe case if they happen to be scratched. That seems to be what has chanced here."

"Is it dangerous? Will he die?"

"What?" said Xander, struggling to follow what was being said, but blanking out. "Die?"

"Oh, no, no," said Isayel reassuringly and pushed him down as he tried to sit up. "We have a draft for it. But you have an unpleasant eight to ten days ahead, and you must not travel until you are recovered."

"Wonderful," sighed Buffy and sank down into an armchair. "What else can go wrong?"

"I have summoned a healer for him. You three should go and break your fast on the terrace. There is nothing you can do here."

"I'll stay with him," Tara said, but Isayel shook her head immediately.

"No, you must not. It can be infectious among those of the Diarchy and we cannot risk any others of you catching it. I will stay until the healer comes."

Informed of what had happened, Kiharn just shrugged.

"It is unfortunate for your companion," he said. "But you would have had to stay in any case. I believe I may be able to convince the Pyarren to allow you into their territory, but the negotiations will take some time."

"I'm sorry we're proving such a burden," mumbled Buffy, but Kiharn gave her a surprisingly smug smile.

"You are more like a gift. This has convinced my mate that it is time we put my son out to stud."

Buffy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The Pyarren are a matriarchy, always have been. But they need new blood. They have recently been making advances to several prides for studs on a two month contract. Our pride has status and we are proven breeders. They will not get a better offer. I will also make it a condition of the contract that you be allowed access to Dihurnin."

"Breeders...?" said Buffy blankly.

"Inbreeding is always a danger among the prides, so we take steps to avoid it. Rihar should please them. He is young and strong and virile. Once he has covered as many of the Pyarren females that wish it, he can either return or take a pride of his own. I do not think he will choose to return. He is nearing challenge and I would really prefer not to kill him. He has much potential."

"I...see."

Kiharn beamed smugly at her. "If Rihar takes another pride, that will extend our territory and our bloodline. He will not take Pyarren pride, of course. The contracts will see to that and, besides, Pyar and her sisters are admirably fierce. Rihar is young, but not so much a fool as to antagonize the mothers of his cubs. But there is a pride not far from them whose lord begins to show signs of losing his edge. I think Rihar will most likely attempt him, since he will wish to remain near his cubs in the Pyarren pride."

"Um, you're so sure he will have cubs," said Willow, exchanging somewhat stunned looks with Buffy and Tara.

"Oh, yes. Our pride males can impregnate a tree stump," said Kiharn happily. "Time for the boy to have his own sons. That will teach him."

Buffy, Tara and Willow barely made it out of the door before they started giggling.

"I'm going to have to write this culture up for Giles," said Willow. "He'll slaughter me if I don't."

"I wonder how Rihar will take to being put out to stud like this," Tara murmured.

"Somehow I can't see him objecting," said Buffy and they all snickered. "You both go ahead to breakfast. I'm going to check how Spike is doing. He should have been down by now."

She went back up and tapped on Spike's door. There was no answer, so she opened the door and put her head in. He was fast asleep, flat on his back with the coverlets pulled tight around him as if he felt cold.

"Spike?"

He shifted uneasily, then opened one eye.

"Slayer." Both eyes opened, then he started to push himself up on his elbows, winced and lay back down again, one knee bent. "Time to hit the road?"

"No. We'll be staying for a while. How are you feeling?"

"I can travel." He rubbed his hands over his face, then across his head, sending strands of white hair tumbling over his forehead.

Bed hair looks really cute on him, thought Buffy involuntarily, then mentally kicked herself.

"You don't look so good," she said, realizing as she neared the bed that he was still very pale.

"Even vamps don't heal overnight. What do you mean we'll be staying for a while?"

"Xander's sick. Had some sort of reaction to those cuts he got from that leopard last night."

"Cat scratch fever?" Spike snickered helplessly.

"It's not funny!" But Buffy's lips twitched despite herself. "But it is some sort of fever. Isayel says he'll recover from it, but not for a week or ten days."

"A week without his whining? And they say there's no God."

"Spi-ike."

He shrugged, grinning, as she sat down in the armchair beside the bed. "How are the Quenya taking it?"

"Kiharn doesn't mind. Seems more pleased than anything. It gives him time to negotiate with the Pyarren."

"To get safe passage for us? Well, good."

"We're just a side issue. What he's really concentrating on is getting Rihar accepted as stud by the Pyarren females."

Spike gave a yell of laughter. "Are you serious?"

Buffy giggled. "Kiharn is."

"Oh, I like the way that feline thinks! Everybody wins. Kiharn gets Rihar out of his mane, we get safe passage in a wedding procession, the Pyarren get offspring and Rihar gets to fuck his brains out with God knows how many willing and adoring females, which is gonna make him one really happy tomcat. Brilliant!"

"Plus, there's a pride near the Pyarren that Kiharn thinks Rihar will be able to appropriate once he manages to stagger out of bed."

"Bonus! And, on top of it all, a land grab that will set Rihar up for life." Spike shook his head in admiration and they both grinned. "That Kiharn's one smart cat."

"I like him. He's nice."

"For a demon?" Spike tilted a mocking eyebrow at her. "Please tell me Harris is going to be stuck in bed and away from Kiharn until we leave. Don't want him getting that cat's back up with his bigotry. That might fly in Sunnydale, but here it could get us killed. Kiharn may be 'nice', but I'll tell you right now, Slayer, he'd make a very bad enemy."

"I know," said Buffy soberly. "I'll make sure Xander stays in bed till we leave, if I have to tie him to it."

Spike eased onto his side and propped his head up on his hand. "You coming around to my way of thinking? Council of Watchers might get mad at you."

"I don't know whether it was the fever talking a while ago, but Xander's really got it into his head that they're all demons."

He was watching her intently. "Aren't they?"

"I don't know. Maybe in Sunnydale they would be, but here they just seem natural. Just the race of this dimension. I don't know whether it's right to force Sunnydale's criteria on these people." She hesitated. "Even in Sunnydale though...I don't think they're evil, Spike."

"Why?"

"They don't act evil." She looked at the hard, handsome face watching her, his expression unreadable. He wasn't acting evil either. "Can a demon change, Spike?"

"Without a soul?" he said dryly. She bit her lip and didn't say anything. "You tell me, Slayer."

They looked at each other for a moment.

Then Buffy looked closer at him and frowned. The crease between his brows was deeply indented and the blue eyes were still faintly glazed with pain, their corners strained.

"Why are you still so pale, Spike? You're still in pain and you don't seem to be healing. You drank from Serrai yesterday. You should be better, but you're not."

"Shifter blood. Thought it tasted strange yesterday. Well, it is strange. Not fully human." He sighed. "It's half animal blood. They might take one shape or the other, but the blood remains the same. A mix of both. Sorry, pet. Gonna take a little longer to heal than I expected."

"Oh, wow."

"Half human is better than none. So, not complaining here. And we've got the time, haven't we, if Harris is down as well. I'll have plenty of time to heal."

"You took that for us. First causes, Serrai said. You took that for me. It's my responsibility."

"No. I chose," he said flatly.

Buffy took a deep breath and held out her wrist suddenly. He looked at it, then looked up at her in amazement and disbelief, his eyes wide.

"You're the Slayer. A Slayer doesn't give her blood to vamps."

"It'll help you heal faster. Human blood's more potent than animal. But Slayer blood's the most powerful of all. I owe you, Spike."

"You owe me nothing, Slayer! I didn't do it for you. I did it for me."

She frowned and he saw that she didn't understand. He was glad of it. He could still see the horror and disgust on her face that time in the alley behind the Bronze when she had realized that he wanted her. He didn't know how she would react if she realized he loved her.

She seemed to think he had made some sort of sacrifice for her when he had fought the panther. But the way he saw it, it hadn't been a sacrifice. It had been pure selfishness. One fought for one's values. One preserved them. That was all. And she was his highest value.

"You just want to find out what it's like," he said, deliberately mocking, to make her take back the offer. "You want to find out what Cardboard felt."

"I won't deny I'm curious," she said calmly, when he had expected her to be angry and stung by the reminder of Finn, expected her to hate him again the way she had before. "But that's not the reason, Spike."

"What is, then?"

"I could say that you've earned it. Or I could say that it's a gift. Either way, you're going to take it."

His heart hurt him. It _was_ a gift. And the way she was giving it made it impossible to refuse. So he gave her back the only gift she would accept in return, making it as good for her as he possibly could.

He took her wrist gently and lifted it to his mouth, held it there for a moment, memorizing the feel of her skin against his lips and her scent.

Buffy felt the tiny sting as his fangs first slid into the vein at her wrist. She had been bitten before, by the Master, by Angel. It had hurt agonizingly both times; but now, knowing about Riley and after watching Serrai yesterday, she understood that it didn't have to be so. She hadn't realized though what it would really feel like.

It started with the first draw his fangs made upon her blood—a silken, voluptuous rapture singing through her veins. She gasped.

It was slow as honey. He was stretching the moment out, making it last, and the longer it lasted, the more intense it became. Sweeter than honey, more intoxicating than wine, more powerful than any drug, a current of tingling electricity rushing through her veins, setting every nerve on fire. Her bones melted; her whole body turned liquid. And it went on and on.

Oh, she understood Riley now, but she also understood that Riley had never felt what she was feeling. Riley had bought his pleasure and would have been given only the bare bones, his blood taken quickly and greedily, and the sensation just enough to make sure he came back for more. What Spike was giving her was something that could not be bought, this delirium, this drowning ecstasy.

She lost all sense of time. When his fangs retracted and his tongue licked her wrist to seal the bite marks, raspy like a cat's, she didn't know whether it was minutes or hours later.

"How...?" she sighed almost voicelessly, lying dazedly limp against his shoulder.

"We can will it so," he said, his voice rough. "Almost took too much. Had a hard time stopping. Man could get drunk on you, Slayer."

She grinned involuntarily. "Mutual."

She could feel him shuddering against her, feel his whole body vibrating. She looked up, drowsy and languorous, to see his face strained, his eyes ablaze with heat and intensity, their pupils dilated wide and black behind eyelids heavy with passion.

"Buffy..."

Her mouth opened to his without a thought. They kissed and kissed again, slowly, deeply, mouths twisting together, tongues sliding and exploring, finding every corner and crevice, heat rising, at once languid and demanding, devouring each other.

One of his hands still held her wrist; the other sifted through her hair, cupping her head, holding her mouth to his. Her hands slid across his chest, met silken skin on one side, gauze and tape on the other.

"No," she mumbled against his lips and he drew back, gasping harshly for breath, then rested his forehead against hers.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered. "Slayer blood...aphrodisiac..."

"Your taking it," she breathed. "Also an aphrodisiac."

They both laughed a little breathlessly against each other's faces.

"Buffy..."

"Spike, don't. That was...that was just a reaction to the bite, that's all."

"Yeah."

She was too aware that he was naked under the covers, aware of his breath on her face, the way his hand was holding the back of her head, delicate and caressing. She stumbled to her feet, retreating. His hand tightened unthinkingly for a moment upon her wrist, then he let her go.

"Get some more sleep. You need to heal."

"I'll heal. I'll be fine by tomorrow. Slayer blood's powerful."

"Good. Need you with me. Don't want to lose you."

His head jerked up, eyes widening, and she realized what she had said. Buffy fled.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"What are you?"

Anya spun. Rihar was leaning on the balustrade of the terrace. The...outside of the balustrade. Anya went and looked over the edge. There was a fifteen foot drop to the ground and no stairs in sight.

"How did you get up here?"

"Cats can jump."

"Strong thighs," Anya muttered appreciatively under her breath.

He heard her and grinned. "Yes. I like the way you move too. Like a deer, all slender and graceful."

Anya blinked. Was he coming on to her? "You eat deer."

He swung over the balustrade, all smooth flowing motion. Supple, golden muscle sleekly visible in that sleeveless, open vest, rippling on arms and chest and stomach. Wicked handsome face. Straight, black hair thrust back and falling to his shoulders, gleaming like a raven's wing in the sunlight. Whoo.

"I'd like to eat you too. Only differently."

Ohh-kay. He was. And really pushing it. Anya suddenly had goosebumps. She had always been the one to make the advances with Xander, right from the beginning. He had never shown any sign of interest until she had stripped down naked in front of him. She was never entirely sure whether it was she herself that Xander wanted or whether any female willing to give him orgasms would do. It was nice to be chased for once, to have someone looking at her as if she were desirable, as if she were absolutely delicious and he'd like to make a meal of her.

Meal.

"You were going to kill us."

"No, I was not. I only wanted to test the strength of your males. You are not like those of the Diarchy."

"We're from another world." She gave him a mocking grin. "Spike surely demonstrated the strength of our males convincingly."

Rihar grinned back. "The white-haired one. His name is Spike? He did. That was a good fight. I will try him again as a human. Even other Quenya have never been able to mark me before."

She suddenly noticed that there was no wound on his shoulder now. "There's no mark."

"We heal fast. And shifting between forms speeds the process." He hooked a hip on the edge of the balustrade. "He is Other, that warrior. The female who leads you is also a kind of Other, very brave and strong. The young females are mages, therefore also Other and different. Then there is the black-haired male who is like those of the Diarchy, not Other, just human."

Anya grinned involuntarily at the disparaging note in his voice. After being made to feel like a second-class citizen for so long for having been a demon, it warmed her heart to have humans referred to in that manner, even if it was Xander.

"And then there is you," he said. "What are you?"

Anya let out a wry breath. "I was a vengeance demon, but my amulet, my power-focus, was destroyed and now I'm just human too."

"That is horrible. That is like not being able to shift." Rihar shuddered. "How can you bear it?"

"It's hard."

"You are very brave."

"No, I'm not," Anya sighed. "I'm scared all the time."

"But not of us. Except for the one you call Spike, your companions are all afraid of us. Of this land. But not you. You like the wildness. It speaks to you."

It did. Anya didn't think human. She didn't fear strangeness. She liked it, felt more comfortable with it really after all these centuries than with being human.

She realized that he had prowled around her and was now at her back, dropping his head to rub his cheekbone against her jaw. He took a deep breath.

She laughed involuntarily. "Hey! Are you smelling me?"

"Yes. You smell very good."

So did he. Of sun and earth and musk. Very male.

"And you come on way too strong." She pushed him away firmly.

He frowned for a second, then laughed. "I move too quickly, is that what you mean? But there is no time. You will leave all too soon."

"Do you come on like this with all the women who enter your territory?"

"When they are as beautiful as you."

This was fun. She hadn't been pursued for such a long time and it was just talk anyway and she was enjoying herself.

"I, um, have a boyfriend."

"You are Mated?"

She heard the capitalization he gave the word. "What does that mean?"

"Like the wolves sometimes do. One partner for life."

"Oh! Like being married. No, we're not."

"Then I will fight him for you."

Oooh. Now that was sexy and primitive and definitely made her feel wanted. A novel sensation for her these days.

"Xander's human. It wouldn't be a fair match."

"I will fight him as human."

"It still wouldn't be fair. He's not a warrior like you."

"You deserve a warrior. Some softhanded townsman is not worthy of you. Why did you choose one such as that?"

"I..." Anya had to think about that, how it had been in the beginning when she had just lost her powers and had met Xander. "I was scared and lonely and failing math and he was just there."

"Math?" Then his head turned. "Your friends are coming. The baby mages. Do you wish to join them or will you come speak with me some more?"

"I..."

"Come speak with me. I like being with you. You find me attractive too, do you not?"

"Yes," said Anya, incurably truthful. "But..."

"Just talk." He looked around, then up at the platform of the flat roof. "Up there. There is no one sunning themselves there right now."

"All right. Hey!" she exclaimed in shock as Rihar scooped her up. "What are you doing?"

His muscles flexed and he leaped.

"Oh, my God!" Anya fought for breath as they landed smoothly on the roof. "You're strong! That was some jump!"

"There are certain advantages to being a cat."

"That cat side makes me a little nervous. Um, you can put me down now," she said when he made no move to do so.

"Do I have to? You feel good."

So did he—that sleek skin under her arms about his neck, the strong body against her, his hair brushing her face. Stupid hormones!

"Down," she said firmly.

He sighed and let her feet slide to the ground. But he kept his arms linked loosely about her waist. Anya found herself looking at his breastbone. He was a full head taller than she was; she tucked neatly under his chin. Oooo, look at that chest. And that sixpack. And those biceps. And...

She shoved her libido down determinedly and pushed at him. "You said just talk."

He let her go reluctantly. "Will you hold me to being the fool that I was when I said that?"

She backed away and held up a hand as he started to move forward. "Down, boy. Stay."

"Wrong species. Cat here, remember?" He grinned, then frowned a little at the wariness in her face. "Does that make you nervous?"

"Uh-huh. Some."

"That I am a cat or that the cat could hurt you?"

"That the cat might hurt me. The other doesn't bother me."

"I would never hurt you."

"The cat might. I don't control that collar." She pointed at the gold band around his neck.

"The cat is me and it would not. Does the collar bother you? I can take it off if you like."

Anya blinked. "You can take it off? I thought it was a restraint."

"No. A protection. It keeps me from responding reflexively when my father angers me. I do not dare challenge him. Not yet. He is in his prime and a shrewd and deadly fighter. If I strike him, it might trigger the attack reflex in both of us and I would end up dead. I must be in my prime before I move against him. If I ever do. I don't want the pride that much."

"That's how lordship is determined? Kill the previous lord? That's harsh."

"It is the Way." He sat down on the smooth, sunwarmed stone of the roof. "But I think my father is looking for other solutions. If it wasn't that my mother worries and refuses to let me go as of yet, he would have released me before now to run free in the wildlands and perhaps take another pride."

"The wildlands?" Anya sat down beside him.

"The Querid is vast. There is still plenty of space to run free and hunt and hone one's skills."

"Would you like to do that?"

"Only occasionally. It would be a lonely life without the pride around you. The human sides of all of us Quenya like society and the trappings of civilization." He grinned at her. "Fire for warmth in winter, shelter, comfortable furnishings, good wine, books, gold ornaments..."

Anya laughed. "The animal side corrupted by the human."

"But you fear the animal side."

He flexed and suddenly there was the panther sitting on its haunches, staring at her, only a foot away. Anya gasped.

"Rihar, I..."

The panther lowered itself to lie on its stomach at right angles to her, then dropped its massive head onto her lap.

"Whoa! All right, now that's weird."

The panther huffed. Laughter, she thought. It was definitely looking amused. Its jaws were open and panting. It licked the inside of her wrist.

"Eww! If you're tasting me for dinner..."

It huffed again. Never in the long span of her life had she had the opportunity to touch a big cat. The temptation was irresistible. She ran her hand tentatively over its head. Soft. She stroked it again and it closed its eyes and purred.

"Ooh, that's nice."

She petted its head some more, then daringly ran a fingertip up a huge fang.

"Good grief, you can do some damage with those."

The panther just purred.

"Right. I get it. You're not going to."

She ran a hand over the powerful muscles of its shoulder. They felt like steel cables under her palm. She stroked it again, a long slide from its head down its spine as far as she could reach. Its ear brushed the side of her face as she bent. Soft. She couldn't resist turning her head to feel that softness against her lips. The panther purred even harder. She petted it with more confidence, running her hands over its spine and shoulders.

The panther turned over suddenly, so that it was lying on its back, its belly up and all four paws in the air like some huge kitten.

"Want a belly rub?" She was grinning widely now, uncaring of the fact that any one of those paws was bigger than her head.

She rubbed its stomach. Soft. It really felt wonderful, the softness of that fur and all the hard muscle beneath. She kept rubbing up and down, enjoying the feeling.

The panther flexed abruptly and suddenly her hand was sliding over smooth skin, heading downwards over Rihar's flat stomach towards his belt.

"Hey, that's cheating!" She jerked back barely in time.

He was laughing helplessly. "You forgot what you were petting. Not one or the other. Both. And you were really pushing me to the edge."

"Oh, you...!" But she was laughing too.

He pulled her head down and kissed her.

Oh, now that was a _kiss_, all heat and wildness and..."Mmm," purred Anya and melted.

It was several minutes before she remembered herself and pushed his mouth away.

"Hey, hey, hey! This was just supposed to be talk! I didn't mean for it to go this far!"

"I did," he said and laughed when she whacked his shoulder with her clenched fist.

"Bad cat! Sneaky! Take me back down."

"Really?"

"Right now!"

"Whatever you command."

He scooped her up and stepped off the roof.

"Yii!" Anya closed her eyes and clutched him tight as they dropped. "Oh God, oh God!"

"We're down," he said mildly and she cracked one eye open to find they really were.

"I'm not," she said severely and he let her slide down out of his arms to the ground.

"You are not really angry. Will you come run in the forest with me tomorrow? I can show you what the Querid is really like."

"Okay," said Anya before she could stop herself.

"I will bring you some of our clothes. You will find them more comfortable."

"Okay."

He kissed her. Her bones melted again.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Okay." She couldn't seem to stop saying that.

She stood staring blankly after him as he flowed over the balustrade and disappeared, then turned to find Willow and Tara staring at her, their mouths wide open.

Uh-oh.

"Hi, guys." Anya wiggled her fingers weakly.

"Anya, you...you were kissing Rihar!" stuttered Willow.

"He was kissing me. And...and he started it," said Anya defensively, blushing wildly. "And... and he's a really, really good kisser."

"Oh."

Tara had a faint, worried frown between her brows, but Willow was looking amused. She had never really liked Xander taking up with Anya and didn't have any objections to someone else possibly driving a wedge between the two of them.

Anya glanced about awkwardly. "Uh, where is everybody?"

"Buffy's around somewhere, Spike's still asleep and Xander's sick," said Tara.

"Oh. That's nice." Anya suddenly came back to herself. "Wait. Xander's sick?"

"He picked up some kind of fever from those scratches. He's in bed."

"I'd better..."

"We can't see him," said Willow. "The Quenya say he's infectious."

"Oh. Too bad."

"Isn't it?" Willow was grinning widely. "So. Rihar?"

"Well..."

"He seems really sexy," murmured Tara.

"Oh, he is," sighed Anya.

Tara bit her lip. "Still..."

"It's just...really nice to have someone else make the running for once," said Anya and Tara's face softened.

"I see."

"I read somewhere that jaguars can mate over a hundred times a day," remarked Willow to the air.

Tara blinked. "Uh, Willow..."

"Maybe not that much in human form, but still..."

Anya's eyes had glazed over.

"I'm drooling again, aren't I?" she said to Tara.

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

><p>Okay, what had gotten into her? Buffy slammed her fist against a tree trunk. She had definitely gone insane. How could she have said that to Spike?<p>

It had just come out. _I don't want to lose you. _The really horrifying thing was that she had meant it. And it wasn't just that he had become her right hand, the bulwark she could lean on, the partner she could absolutely depend on. It was more than that.

That bite...But she couldn't blame it on the bite.

Why wasn't she seeing things the way she had back in Sunnydale? Everything had been so simple there, the lines reliably drawn. One glance was all it took to know who was white hat or black hat.

But in this world, it was all grays.

It was this place, the lawlessness of it and the strangeness of its people. Maybe they were demons, like Xander said. Maybe they didn't have souls. It didn't matter. That was just the way this world was.

'_Judge for yourself_," said Lioslath back in the fishing village. And when she did, she was coming up with a different perspective, one that would appall the Council of Watchers. '_Do not rely upon rote_.'

Lioslath was a mage, a wizard, a word which literally meant a wise man. And despite his abilities, he was still human. He had a soul. And Lioslath said: Adapt.

The Council said: No.

Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. But even those who can't still had an understanding of the process, because they felt it, shared it, even though that feeling might not be enough to make them satisfactory practitioners of whatever skill it was.

The Council could neither do nor feel. They did not share it at all. They had no real understanding of what it was to be a Slayer. They could not, since they just weren't Slayers. All they could do was record, research, criticize. And lay down their absolute rules. Indoctrinate young Slayers in them.

Because young Slayers needed to have guidelines, needed to be able to kill swiftly and without hesitation. Hesitation could get them killed. They didn't have the expertise or the experience yet to indulge doubts. They didn't dare look at the world as anything but black and white. Things had to be kept simple. Soul good; no soul bad.

Very few Slayers lived past their teens. Most were killed way before that. Buffy had beaten the odds. She was starting to push the limits of what was the norm for Slayer age. Older meant wiser. Wiser meant leaving childhood behind, meant seeing and accepting the grays.

The Quenya might or might not have souls, but they weren't evil. They might or might not be demons, but they were people.

Which meant that Spike...

And here we go round again.

She was glad when Serrai came and offered to show her around Kiharnen territory. Thinking about Spike was just too difficult. Like feeling her way through a mine field. Not knowing what was real and what was just what her hormones wanted it to be. No solid ground anywhere.

She changed into the vest and pants Serrai provided, liking the feel of the butter-soft leather much better than the rough linens and sailcloth of the Diarchy. She had been wearing her Sunnydale jeans and tee as much as she could, despite the rips and tears they had both picked up over the days of hard travel.

"Now you look like one of us," said a young, blonde girl who had joined Serrai on the terrace.

Buffy noticed the collar around her neck, gold with red gems. "Are you...?"

"I am Tirr. The one you tried to fight." Tirr grinned at her. "It was a fight between the males. You should not have tried to interfere. And anyway I could not let you hurt my brother."

"You're Rihar's sister?"

"Yes. I will be captain of his guard when he takes a pride of his own."

Buffy looked at her with interest. "You'll go with him?"

"Of course. Here, with my mother and aunts and cousins, I have no standing. In Rihar's pride, I will be first. Would you like to come watch a hunt? A couple of the younglings are hungry and they can use the exercise."

Two gawky adolescent leopards fell into step with them as they went into the forest. Buffy could see various other cats sunning themselves, one or two with cubs tumbling about them. All of them had studs in their ears, but only the adolescents wore collars.

"The collars come with puberty?" Buffy guessed and Serrai laughed.

"Keeps them from challenging prematurely and getting themselves killed. Tirr and Rihar would not be wearing theirs if it wasn't that Marissa cannot bear to let them go yet. She is afraid they are still too young to fend for themselves."

"We are not!" growled Tirr. "Rihar could take a pride. You will see."

"He will have his chance very soon."

"Good. We grow tired of waiting."

"Is that why Rihar attacked us?" Buffy asked shrewdly. "To create an incident?"

Tirr grinned at her. "Yes. We can be leashed only so long."

"Past time," muttered Serrai. "But mothers can be foolish. I am, with my cubs. Settle down, you two," she snapped, smacking at the two adolescents rolling over and over, wrestling with each other. "Do you want to hunt or do you want to play?"

"Silly question," said Tirr under her breath to Buffy. "Both, of course."

Buffy laughed. She was enjoying herself. She could keep up with them when they were in human form, her Slayer speed matching theirs. But when they changed into cats, there was no way she could match their sixty mile an hour speed. And they weren't just sprinters, capable of only a few minutes of that; they could keep it up steadily. They would have left her far behind them if it wasn't that Serrai refused to change, forcing the other three to stay close.

Then suddenly all four of them stiffened.

"Gaiour," said Serrai. "Watch from that tree, Buffy. You will have a good view. Tirr will drive it this way."

Buffy swung up into the tree and watched with fascination as all four leopards vanished, abruptly not at all visible in the undergrowth. She could only tell where Serrai was because the leopard deliberately held her tail just high enough for the white spot on its end to be seen by Buffy, the way she would to let her cubs know where she was.

There was a snarl in the distance and then a pounding of hooves as the gaiour was driven directly to where Serrai was. Tirr behind and the adolescents on either side kept it on course. The gaiour burst through the trees, its eyes wild, foam flying from its muzzle. It was like a big elk, only more massive and with horns like a water buffalo rather than antlers. Serrai took it in one smooth rush, her jaws closing upon its throat and the impact of her weight sending it crashing to the ground in a flurry of legs. The other three arrived and fell upon it while Serrai just lay there gripping its throat.

Strangulation was the actual killing method, Buffy saw, Serrai's jaws closing off the gaiour's windpipe until it suffocated, rather than ripping its throat out. The gaiour finally stopped twitching and Buffy stayed prudently in the tree while the leopards fed. After a while, Serrai raised her head and sent a humming call through the forest. Three more adolescents came tumbling out of the woods and fell upon the carcass.

Serrai stood up and turned human. There was blood across her mouth and face and hands, and splattered down her throat into the vee of her vest.

"I will go wash," she called to Buffy. "Wait for me."

She disappeared into the undergrowth while Buffy idly wondered how Xander would take all of this. She was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to deal.

Serrai came strolling back, all the blood washed away, just as a couple more adolescents turned up.

"There will soon be little left," she said. "Younglings are always hungry. There is a cliff not far from here that allows a good view of our land. Would you like to see?"

"Yes, please," said Buffy, scrambling down from the tree.

"Tirr," said Serrai over her shoulder and Tirr growled in response around a mouthful of meat. "She will oversee the children. Good practice for her. Try this."

She tossed Buffy a fruit that looked like an apple, but turned out to taste like a peach when Buffy bit into it. Serrai was eating one too as she led the way towards the cliff. The human side liked the taste of fruit, the cat side bloody meat.

From the top of the cliff, they had an excellent view of the land rolling away into the blue distance, furred with trees and glittering here and there with the flash of lakes and streams in the sun. Serrai pointed out where the territories of other prides began.

"Beyond that is Packland. We are advising them of your presence. They should put no obstacles in the way of your passage since it is Isayel who asks for you and she is wolf."

White wolf. Right.

"You are being very kind," said Buffy.

"How not? You are no threat to us and you are interesting."

It was almost sunset by the time they got back to the manor house. The great hall was full of people lounging around and talking. Music was being played on flat, stringed instruments and a kind of buffet had been set up on one side, human foods to which anyone could help themselves. Willow and Tara waved to her from the other side of the hall. Buffy loaded a plate, then went over to them.

A cub pounced on her foot and Tara scooped it up, laughing, hugged it, then handed it over to a girl-child who looked about eight.

"They don't seem to be able to shift until they're two or three. They're so cute when they're cubs. Where have you been, Buffy?"

"Serrai took me on a hunt, then showed me the area. How about you?"

"We spent the day with Isayel," Willow said. "She really knows her stuff. We're learning a lot."

"How's Xander?"

"Full of some weird medicine and mostly zonked out. But he seems to be doing fine. Except for freaking out thinking he's going to turn into a wereleopard too."

"It doesn't work like that. It's not like werewolves. Serrai said you have to be born a Shifter." Buffy looked around. "Where's Anya?"

To Buffy's surprise, they both giggled.

"Having a spa day." Tara laughed as Buffy blinked. "Not a real spa. She's just pampering herself with lotions and oils and girly things. Quenya females do indulge themselves like that when in human form and Anya says she deserves it after all these days tramping through the forest."

"But I think she might have an ulterior motive," murmured Willow.

Buffy opened her mouth to ask what, then caught sight of a white-blond head on the other side of the hall. She put down her plate.

"I'll be right back. I want to see how Spike is."

He wasn't wearing his T-shirt, which had been shredded in his fight with Rihar so that it was no good for anything more than rags. Someone had given him one of the Quenya's open, leather vests which...gave a good view of chiseled abs and copper-tinged nipples. Buffy swallowed hard. The gauze and tape was gone. Only thin white lines ran across his stomach and chest now.

"You've healed."

He looked around at her, smiling. "Slayer. Yeah, I have. Great stuff, your blood."

She lifted the side of his vest to check his shoulder. The gashes that had gone so deep that his collarbone had been visible were now closed into pinkish-brown scars that were already fading to white. She touched them delicately with her fingertips.

"Do they hurt?"

"Not at all." He flexed his shoulder to demonstrate. The muscles moved smoothly, seemingly without pain.

"Good. Do you need more blood?"

He grinned at her. "I'd like it, but I don't need it."

He reached out and took her hand. She felt his cool, strong fingers about her wrist, his thumb moving lightly and caressingly upon the puncture marks over the vein.

"Thank you," he said.

The look in his eyes, all heat and tenderness, brought the color up hot into her face.

"Only sensible to get you into fighting shape again," she muttered.

"You wouldn't have said that back in Sunnydale."

Absolutely true. And she didn't want to think about that. She flushed even hotter.

"This isn't Sunnydale." Obviously. But her brain wasn't functioning under that intense blue stare and she couldn't seem to think of anything else to say.

"No."

She cast about desperately to find another subject. Then she realized that his hair was damp and tumbling in strands over his forehead. Bed hair, wet hair, they both looked good on him.

Dammit, she had to stop thinking that way!

"How come your hair's wet? You had a bath? Where?" She really wanted one. "Is there a tub somewhere? Or even just a stream."

"There's a shower, Slayer." He grinned at her. "You really gotta start opening doors. Second door at the end of the passageway. Gravity-fed from these big tanks on the roof. It's even warm from the sun. They don't allow you much water, what with all these people wanting it, but there's enough to be able to wet down, soap and then rinse off if you're quick about it."

"I gotta get me some of that." Even a quick shower would be a luxury after days of taking baths in cold water from a stream. "See you later."

She ran back to Willow and Tara, leaving him laughing. Willow and Tara both blinked as she grabbed her plate.

"What's up?"

"Gonna eat in my room," explained Buffy. "Once I've had a shower."

"Shower?" Their eyes lit up.

Buffy grinned at them. "You really gotta start opening doors. And I called it first."

"Wait for us!"

Tara and Willow loaded plates too, then they all ran up to their rooms.

"Bring your plate into our room, Buffy," Willow called. "We can all eat there after."

"Okay." Buffy handed Tara her plate, then dived into her room to grab her towel out of the small pile of personal belongings they had each brought up from the wagon.

As Spike had said, the water flow was regulated, cutting off thirty seconds after one pulled the chain that drew back a metal plate holding back the water. After wetting herself down, she took her time soaping, then rinsed off fast before the water cut off, once for her hair and once for her body, allowing herself no more than that as others would want it too.

Tara went next and then Willow.

"Look what Serrai gave us," said Tara. "Nightshirts."

"Ooh!" The shirts were like the Quenya vests, sleeveless and held together by thongs, but they were loose and fell to mid-thigh and were made of some silky material totally unlike the rough linen of the Diarchy. They all pulled them on and groaned with relief.

"Nice to sleep in something that doesn't rasp your skin," sighed Willow. "That leather vest that Lioslath was wearing, I bet that was made by the Quenya too. I guess we know what the Quenya trade for the wine."

"What do you think of the Quenya?" Buffy asked suddenly. "Are they demons like Xander says?"

"I don't know." Willow frowned over that too. "They don't mean us any harm."

"They're not human. Do you think they have souls?"

"Does it matter?" asked Tara, as Spike had. Buffy looked at her thoughtfully. Tara had the right instincts. Lioslath had said that and he was right.

"Does it?" she said softly and Tara looked back at her gravely.

"Isayel, sh-she's a really powerful mage. Just as powerful as Lioslath. And she doesn't use her power to harm, just to protect. She's good, Buffy."

"And she's a Shifter," said Buffy. "She's a wolf in her other form. What Xander would call a demon."

"Humans and...non-humans co-exist here," Willow said slowly, purposely rejecting the term 'demon'. "They're not at war. They might avoid each other but when they interact they do it peacefully. They influence each other. Those tattoos on Lioslath's face, those tiger markings? That's sympathetic magic. He's tapping in to the Quenya's power. And the lack of gender differentiation in the Diarchy? That too comes from the Quenya, where the females fight beside and as ferociously as the males. I'll bet once we spend more time here, we'll find that the Quenya have picked up things from the Diarchy as well. When Isayel was showing us some magic today, the sense of it, the smell of it, if you know what I mean, was very like the way Lioslath felt when he was using his."

"I almost wish we could stay in this dimension for a while," said Tara. "There's so much that Willow and I could learn from either Isayel or Lioslath."

"So you wouldn't call them evil. The Quenya, I mean."

"No," said Tara firmly and Willow shook her head as well. "Absolutely not."

"Would you call Spike evil?"

Tara's gaze met hers, fully aware of what Buffy was really asking. "No."

"Not here," said Willow, missing the subtext. "He's changed. He's helping. He might revert once we get back to our dimension, but in this dimension, he's not acting evil at all."

"I trust him," said Tara.

"You trust everyone, sweetie," said Willow affectionately. "Giles and the Council would have a cow if they heard you say that."

Somehow Buffy didn't care about the Council anymore.

He wants me and I want him, she thought as she left Willow and Tara's room later and headed back to her own. Who would it hurt if...?

She wanted to know what lovemaking would be like with someone who was her match. Spike was right, as usual. She had always held back, with Riley, with Parker, afraid to let go in case she might hurt them with her Slayer strength. When she had made love to Angel, she had been virgin, unsure and hesitant, and Angel had stayed human. She hadn't really let go there either.

She neared her door and slowed. In the room beyond hers, her Slayer hearing could pick up Anya humming to herself as she moved around. There was no sound from Spike's room. Maybe he was still downstairs. She stared at the rough, unpolished wood of his closed door.

This was wrong. Everything she wanted. It was all so wrong.

She realized that she had raised her hand to knock, caught it back with a gasp.

The door whipped open. He had sensed her. Of course he had sensed her hesitating outside. He was in his jeans and that open, Quenya vest, but his feet were bare and he was holding one of the scrolls from Kiharn's study in his hand. A map of the Querid, which he had clearly been studying.

They stared at each other in shock. The scroll dropped from his hand, rolled itself up on the floor.

"Buffy!" he whispered, almost without sound.

"I..."

She almost ran. But she couldn't move. Her knees had turned to water under the heat of his gaze, her bones turned liquid. His pupils were dilating over an intense darkness. She was falling into that blackness, losing herself in that heat and hunger.

His glance slid lower, moving over her body in the thin, clinging, silky material of the nightshirt which was all she was wearing. She could feel her nipples hardening all by themselves under his stare, heard the sharp catch of his breath in his throat before his gaze came up again and locked to hers.

He held out his hand without speaking and she found herself putting hers into it, felt his cool fingers close lightly upon hers. He stepped back slowly, drawing her into his room. The lightest of pressures, no compulsion at all, ready to let her go if she panicked, letting her decide.

He was making it so easy. She found herself moving unthinkingly with the flow. The door closed. With his free hand, he shoved down the bar that locked them in, locked the world outside. She should have felt trapped, but she didn't. She moved back though, still hesitant, retreating to the middle of the room.

He came with her. He had let her fingers go and his hands were now sliding up her bare arms. Her skin tingled where his skin slid over it. His hands reached her head, cupped it gently, fingers sifting through her hair. He bent, that beautiful face filling her vision. She felt his breath shudder against her mouth. Then he paused, that intense gaze questioning, disbelieving.

"Buffy?"

"Yes," she whispered, not really aware of speaking, and saw his eyes shudder shut, shut her own at the brush of his lips against hers, a delicate, experimental touch. His tongue slid the line of her lips and her mouth opened to him instinctively. Then she was lost in the taste of him, the feel of him, his tongue twining and sliding against hers.

Their eyes opened, staring at each other in wonder, fell half-closed again in heavy sensuality. She was still drifting away from him and he followed. It was becoming a dance, a slow circling, like the gravitational pull of two planetary bodies locked in orbit, unable to keep away from each other. Still moving, they kissed and kissed again, soft, sweet, delicate exploration.

Her hands slid over his chest and she felt it heave on a deep breath under her touch. She pushed at his vest and he let it fall to the ground behind him. Her hands moved over him, sliding over his shoulders, his throat, down his back, enjoying the feel of supple muscle and hard bone under her palms. She could feel him vibrating with tension now, he was holding himself back so tightly.

"Why?" he breathed.

"Had to happen..."

"Bloody hell, yes!"

"Wanted you a long time."

She felt him shudder.

"You did?"

"Not allowed. Forbidden. But...Oh, don't ask why! I don't know why! Because of this place, because I'm curious, because my hormones are running wild. I don't know! I don't want to know. I just want you."

"God!"

His hands were sliding over her too, down her back, across her breasts and stomach, leaving trails of fire through the thin, silky material of her shirt.

"Naked under that, aren't you?" he muttered.

"Yes," she sighed.

"Dream come true..."

His mouth burned down her throat, raked back and forth over her collarbones, slid down into the vee of her shirt. His face pressed between her breasts, then he was bending her back across his arm. His head turned, jaw pushing aside the edge of her shirt, then his mouth closed over her nipple. He sucked, strong pulls that went right down to her core.

"Oh, God! Spike..!"

She arced against him, her hands raking his stomach, fingers pushing down under the belt of his jeans. They both shuddered and jolted against each other. His hands yanked the thongs of her shirt apart, shoved the shirt aside, sliding across her naked stomach and her pelvis, kneading her ass, dragging her thigh up over his hip. Through the denim of his jeans, she could feel him urgent against her, rubbed herself against his hard shaft deliberately and heard him moan, that fierce control he had managed to retain so far fraying.

Hers was gone.

"Yes," she gasped. "Oh, yes. Oh, Lord, come on, Spike!"

He scooped her up, settling her thighs around him and mating their groins together. She locked her ankles in the small of his back and pushed hard against him. They both groaned. He carried her over to the bed and tumbled her into it, the two of them still locked together. She purred in satisfaction at his weight. Her shirt went flying, leaving her naked.

"God, you're beautiful!" he muttered.

"So are you."

Her hands were pushing at his jeans. He shoved at them too, his mouth working upon her breasts. His tongue had gone raspy like a cat's and the sensation was incredible. She cried out and arced to him, her hands gripping his head to hold his mouth to her.

His jeans were gone. He settled down upon her, as naked as she was, their bodies rubbing and straining together.

"The way you feel," he muttered.

"Mutual," she gasped, thrusting against him. Her thighs gripped his waist; her heel slid down the small of his back, sole sliding across his ass, pressing him to her.

"You're so wet for me. For me!" he said in wonder.

"Dammit! Can't wait." Her whole body was shuddering and arcing, incredibly turned on. She grabbed his taut ass in both her hands, yanked him against her. "Come on, Spike, come on!"

"Christ, yes!" Spike gritted through his clenched teeth, still trying to keep control, trying not to just hammer her into the bed. "Oh, Jesus, those Slayer muscles!"

He had to wedge himself into her, she was so tight. He groaned in shuddering delight and felt her moan and arc against him, her arms clenching fiercely about him.

"God," she muttered. "Almost too much. So perfect!"

He was as deep into her as he could go and it was Heaven. Her sheath surrounding him, her body gripping him so tightly, arms and legs wound around him, mouth gasping against his. Buffy's mouth. Buffy's body. Buffy's eyes looking at him, glazed with desire. If someone staked him right now, he'd dust happy.

He forced himself to wait, to let her get used to him. He wanted it as good for her as he could make it. His one chance to show her what it could be like, the two of them together. When he started to withdraw for another stroke, her sheath clenched hard upon him, trying to hold him where he was. His eyes nearly crossed.

"Sodding hell, Slayer!"

"You like that." She laughed triumphantly. Her arms and legs and sheath gripped him fiercely. Her nails dug into his back, an additional stimulus. "You can take it."

"Hell, yeah! Let go, Slayer. I want it all!"

"Finally," she sighed. "Someone I can't hurt."

She bit him hard, right at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Anywhere on the neck was a trigger point for a vamp. His brain shorted right out and he slammed into her, forgetting all about being gentle, forgetting his strength, his control totally gone.

"Oh, yes!" she gasped. "Hard like that! Harder!"

"Oh, thank God!" he muttered.

He couldn't have held back any longer. Couldn't stop, couldn't think, could only feel, ramming helplessly into her, gasping against her face. And she thrust back as hard, clenching and gripping upon him.

All wildness. Thrusting and straining. Way beyond thought, way beyond the point of gentleness or care. Madness. Taking each other violently, savagely, only urgent, desperate, exigent need left. Faster and faster, unable to stop. Teeth and nails and fangs. Driving each other higher and higher. Driving each other insane.

His mouth closed upon her neck before, with the one brain cell that he had left, he remembered that he shouldn't.

"Do it!"

Buffy caught the back of his head, pulled his fangs hard against her skin. She wanted it, wanted the whole experience, couldn't think about consequences, didn't care about anything but the thickness of him ramming into her and the way he made her feel.

"Ah, Buffy!"

His fangs sank into the vein and that incredible rapture started. She felt his body seize up, felt him throb and pulse within her again and again, that jerk of his hips sending her over the edge herself, convulsing over and over again, her brain frying right out under the absolute, unbearable ecstasy of it.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She woke up floating in a haze of content. Her body felt heavy and languid and richly pleasured, unwilling to move. She lay smiling dreamily against someone's skin, too contented to open her eyes, her head in the curve of someone's shoulder, her body draped over someone's cool, strong, unbreathing body.

Unbreathing. Spike.

Spike!

Her eyes flew open as memory came back. She jerked bolt upright, clutching the bedclothes to her. Spike was fast asleep beside her, lying on his back, his arm flung out where it had fallen away from her when she sat up. As she stared at him, appalled, he frowned a little and turned onto his side, his hand reaching out for her even in his sleep.

Buffy gasped. Oh, my God, what had she done?

She slid carefully away to the edge of the bed. Her nightshirt lay in a silken puddle on the floor. She caught it up and yanked it on, then stood up silently and ran to the door. She unbarred it as quietly as she could, poked her head out and checked both ways to make sure the passage was clear before she slipped out into it. She heard Spike stir as she eased the door shut behind her.

She dived into her room and barred her own door, praying that he wouldn't wake and come after her. She needed time to think.

Her white, strained face looked back at her from the dresser mirror, hair tumbled about her shoulders, fang marks showing clearly on her neck. Oh, good Lord! She peered closer. She didn't know how many times he had bitten her last night, but there was only one mark on her neck—two neat punctures already starting to fade with her Slayer healing. They would be gone in a couple of hours. She caught up a ribbon and wound it around her neck to cover the marks so that no one would see them before they were gone.

She held the edges of her nightshirt wide and studied her body. Constellations of hickeys and tiny bite marks were scattered over her skin, almost completely faded and sure to be gone within the hour. She wondered whether the hickeys and bite marks she had left on Spike would also fade that fast. They should, with his vampire healing. She hoped so. She didn't want anybody noticing those either and asking questions.

God, they had been all over each other last night! Slayer blood really was an aphrodisiac. She couldn't count how many times or how many ways they had taken each other. And it had been wonderful.

Oh, good God, she was insane!

But she had never felt anything like that before in her life. Had never felt so completely fulfilled, so utterly content as she did right now. Spike, damn him, was right. No human could ever satisfy a Slayer.

Spike however...

It was so wrong!

But she couldn't stop thinking about him. Their bodies sliding and coiling about each other, his weight upon her, his thickness within her, the way he touched her, caressed her, the endearments he whispered into her skin, the look in his eyes as if she were the center of his universe. That astonishing, stupefying, impossible look. As if she meant the world to him. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. Nobody had ever before made her feel the way he made her feel.

Somebody tapped on her door.

She whirled and stared wildly at it. Oh, please, let it not be Spike! Though she would have to face him sooner or later. And then what was she going to say? What was she going to do? This thing between them—it just could not be allowed to go on.

She cracked her door open warily, ready to slam it shut again. It was Serrai. Buffy let out a little sigh of relief and relaxed.

"You have slept a long time," said Serrai, smiling. "It is past noon. Your two little magelettes are with Isayel and at sun-up Rihar took the pretty human-but-also-Other out to see the forest. Which leaves you and the likewise very pretty Spike. Would you wish to see more of our land today?"

"Um, could I take a raincheck on that? I mean," Buffy corrected when Serrai looked bewildered, "perhaps later? I'm a little tired right now."

Serrai sniffed at her with interest, then laughed. "Many bouts. I thought he had potential, that one. I'm not surprised you are tired. You should have told me I was stepping on your tail."

"What?"

"I can smell him all over you, your warrior."

"Oh, God!" Buffy blushed bright red. "Don't tell anyone!"

"If you wish not. Your companions have no noses, of course, but if you do not wish the rest of us to know, you should wash his scent off you," purred Serrai and sauntered off, grinning.

Buffy grabbed a towel and ran for the shower.

It took her a long time to come downstairs. It was past two before she edged warily out onto the terrace and sat down to eat her breakfast in the sunshine. She had been wavering back and forth about leaving her room. If she did so, she might very well run into Spike; if she didn't, he would know right where to find her if he wanted to. And of course he would want to. She had no hope otherwise. She was amazed he hadn't turned up already.

Back in Sunnydale, she could easily have done a disinvite spell to keep him out of her house. But here, there was no way to avoid him. And even back in Sunnydale, it would have been impossible to avoid a confrontation.

Back in Sunnydale. Back in their own dimension where things were nicely black and white, and she didn't have to see grays. Trouble was, all of a sudden she felt as if she wouldn't be seeing in color either there, rather like Dorothy leaving glorious Technicolor behind to go back to same old, same old. Sure there was no place like home, but couldn't you take the color with you?

Oh, God, she shouldn't even be thinking like that!

The black panther flowed over the balustrade of the terrace. He was carrying Anya on his back. Anya was wearing the Quenya uniform of black leather vest, pants and boots, and she had her arms around the panther's neck, her face in its fur and her legs wound around its belly. Buffy gaped.

The panther shook itself, rose up and turned into Rihar. Anya unclasped her grip and slid down his back onto her feet. She looked about as languorously contented as Buffy had felt when she woke up.

"Slayer," said Rihar courteously to Buffy. Taking lessons from Spike. In more ways than one, thought Buffy in blank astonishment as he turned, bent Anya back over his arm and kissed her breathless. "Later then, Anyanka?"

"Oh, yes," sighed Anya and stood there with a sappy look on her face as he disappeared over the balustrade again. Then she turned and saw Buffy and blinked, as if suddenly waking up. "Uh, hi."

"Hi," said Buffy weakly.

Anya sank down into a chair opposite Buffy. "I have to sit down. My legs aren't working. The man never gets exhausted. I mean, never! Willow was right about jaguars."

Huh? "Jaguars?"

"Yeah. Mind you, he does have a tendency to bite your neck to hold you down and take you from the back, but, hey, it's only now and then, and it can really be a turn-on. You know?"

"Oh, yeah," murmured Buffy, with a vivid sensory memory of Spike with his fangs in her neck and his body moving against her back as he took her. "It really can be."

"Mmm." Anya smiled beatifically and lapsed into a dreamy silence, lost in her own sensory memories, it looked like.

"Um, Anya..." Buffy wondered how to put this. "Kiharn's negotiating a contract to put Rihar at stud with the Pyarren..."

"Rihar told me. Kiharn mentioned it to him last night." Anya waved a dismissive hand. "It's not like we're going to be staying, Buffy. In a week or so, we'll be back in Sunnydale. I can't see why I can't enjoy myself until then. It's not like I'm anything more than a convenience to...to..."

She broke off abruptly, biting her lip. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"No commitment," Anya muttered. "He's never even said 'I love you'. Forget about a ring!"

Buffy didn't know what to say. Anya and Xander's relationship did seem pretty onesided.

"Rihar makes me feel wanted. And sexy. And desirable. He makes me feel special. I haven't felt like that in a long time. And he's so gorgeous!"

"He is," agreed Buffy, smiling weakly.

"So I'm going to make the most of it while I can."

She did have a point. But then Anya could do whatever she wanted. Her actions wouldn't have the kind of consequences Buffy's would have.

She got up restlessly and wandered into the house, leaving Anya brooding in the sunshine.

"Slayer."

Spike. She braced herself and turned. He was standing just behind her, his eyes very dark and his parted lips pulled back into a tight line. Tensed with strain like that, his face looked very young and vulnerable. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't speak

"We have to talk," he said.

She shook her head helplessly. "There's no point."

He put out a hand and drew her into a deserted corridor. The cool, sensitive fingers slid up her arm, brushed the line of her jaw, then fell away as she pulled back sharply.

"I gave you your space. I didn't come charging after you when you rushed out of my room like an apocalypse was gonna happen. Knew it all came out of nowhere last night, just kinda exploded. Knew you needed time to think. But, Buffy..."

She drew a deep breath. "It can't happen again, Spike."

"Why not?" he asked intensely.

"It was a mistake. You know that. Spike, it's wrong!"

"Then why does it feel so right?" He caught her face in his hands. "You know how I feel about you."

She jerked away. "No, I don't know and I don't want to know!"

He laughed wryly. "Always the queen of denial."

"Don't!"

He said nothing for a moment, just looked at her. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"All right," he said softly. "All right. You know I want you though."

She bit her lip and said nothing.

"And I know you want me."

"That doesn't matter! Can't you understand, Spike? That can't be allowed to matter!"

"Because it's wrong."

"Yes!"

"It's only wrong in Sunnydale, pet. It's not wrong here."

"But..."

"We're gonna be stuck here what? Another couple of weeks? Give me those weeks, luv."

"Spike..."

"Who does it hurt here? Just until we get back to our own dimension." He smiled twistedly. "I understand that nothing can be allowed to happen there. I'm not stupid. Back in Sunnydale, it all comes back. Your calling, your Scoobies, your Council. The lines are drawn again. Slayer vs vampire and death the only action possible between us..."

She gave a little sharp gasp at the thought. "I can't stake you, Spike! Not now. Not after..."

He smiled and reached out to touch her face, thumb sliding delicately over her parted lips.

"I'm glad. Couldn't hurt you either. Never could. Tried, but something always kept getting in the way. Didn't know what it was until a while back. Know now. We get back to Sunnydale, I'll do whatever you want." His eyes were vividly blue and intense. "Tell me and I'll do it."

"We can just be...friends?"

His lips tightened, but he nodded. "If that's what you want."

"It has to be."

"Do anything you want. Be anything you want." He gave a little, shuddering breath. "Never thought you'd want me. Never even dared hope. Bloody miracle. And now...Can't give it up. Not so soon. Not after just one night. A couple of weeks. That's not much to ask, is it? Here, where it won't matter. They'll go all too fast, those weeks. Buffy! Don't you want it too?"

She did. She wanted it all too much.

"I want it," she whispered.

His eyes flared and he caught her to him, kissed her desperately hard. Her arms closed about him as fiercely; her mouth responded helplessly to his, clinging to his.

He was everything she shouldn't want and he was everything she wanted. He was forbidden and she didn't care. Here, it wouldn't matter, just like he said.

Oh, she understood Anya. Two weeks? She too would make the most of them.

* * *

><p>She didn't love him. But she wanted him. It was enough.<p>

It was something he could keep with him later once she was gone, something that he would always have and which no one could take away from him. He understood clearly that once they were back in their own dimension again, everything would be over. But here they were out of their world, out of their time. Everything was possible, because everything was a dream.

"We can't spend fourteen days in bed!" she protested when he kept pulling her back into it every time she tried to rise.

"Not like we got anything else more important to do." He ran his hands in a slow glide over the smooth silk of her skin, from the tips of her outstretched hands down her body all the way to her knees, and felt her body involuntarily heat and flex. "We're stuck here until Kiharn finishes negotiating with the Pyarren. Think of it as an enforced vacation."

"Yes, but we can't just stay in bed," Buffy objected, even though her hormones were saying: well, why not?

"Oh, you want to do it some place else instead? Not a bad idea. I noticed some potentially very nice locations out in the forest."

"Spike!" But she was laughing.

"So what do you want to do instead? Go hunting? Take down notes on this culture and its flora and fauna for your Watcher? Willow's already doing that. Try to decipher books in a language you can't read, only understand when you hear it? Have polite conversations with strange Shifters about the weather or the best way to rip a deer apart? C'mon, Slayer." He laughed at her. "Isn't this more fun?"

She couldn't help purring as he stroked her. "Yeah, but..."

"You got some Puritan hangup about enjoying yourself? Lovemaking's an art form."

"Not a twenty-four hour art form, for Heaven's sake!"

"Why not? We vamps, we got the time for it."

"Yeah, no jobs to worry about, happy meals on legs walking around everywhere..."

"Which for me is you right now." He bit her neck lightly and she laughed.

"Nothing to do but veg," she finished, trying to sound scornful and failing.

"You can use the break, Slayer. You'll be back to your patrols and college and apocalypses soon enough." He laughed, seeing the wry look on her face. "Haven't really had a vacation since you were called as a Slayer, have you?"

That was true and all of this felt so marvelous. "I should really check on the others."

"Why? If there was a problem, they'd be pounding on your door in a second and we'd hear them. Glinda and Red are having the time of their lives doing mojo with Isayel. Harris is still sweating and whining in bed. Demongirl's banging Rihar all over the landscape and don't tell me she's not. I can smell him on her."

Buffy giggled involuntarily. "Like the Quenya can smell us. Now that really came from left field. Anya, I mean. I wasn't expecting that."

"I was. Well, something like that, anyway." He shrugged when she looked at him in surprise. "Lioslath showed her she could stand on her own feet, make her own choices. The bunch of you never listen to her and Harris spends all his time stepping on her, can't get past the fact that she used to be a demon. Now she's rebelling."

Buffy bit her lip. "We've all been so blind."

"You have, pet. You'll never have a better expert on magical affairs than an ex-demon like Anya with a thousand years experience behind her. But not even your Watcher pays any attention to her. And why? Because she didn't used to have a soul. Because she's forthright, doesn't have the social smarts not to say exactly what's on her mind without censoring it the way everyone else does."

"I'm ashamed," Buffy muttered.

"Blame the mindset the Council gives you."

"That's what Lioslath meant when he said 'questionable teachings.'"

"Seeing things differently, are you, pet? That might cause problems when you get back. Maybe you should stay blind. Easier for you."

"No," she said. "Blindness never is."

"But seeing has a price, luv."

"We'll all have to adapt. Things are going to be different once we get back to Sunnydale," she said determinedly.

"Are they?" He didn't seem very convinced. "Well, Anya will be. She's found herself and there's no going back from that. Harris has a shock coming."

"I'm scared."

Change was always frightening. Spike looked down at her, saw the trouble and confusion in her eyes. All of this was bewildering to her, everything happening too fast. Only a little while back, she had hated him. She had spent years hating him. And now here she was in his bed, in his arms. He could see how this would be confounding to her, going against her teachings, her worldview, her very instincts.

"Let it go for two weeks, pet. Don't think about it for now."

"No," she agreed, her arms tightening about him.

The walls would come up again when they got back to Sunnydale. He knew that absolutely. He knew the pressure Giles and the Council would put upon her. He would lose her the moment they left this dimension.

"Be with me now," he said into her hair. "Stay with me, at least while we're here."

"Yes," she sighed. She could do that. Here, Buffy thought. Here, where the world was upside down, where everything wrong was right, a lovely crazy fever-dream she never wanted to leave. Here, where his arms were a haven and his lovemaking a delight, waking sensations she had never felt before and feared she would never feel again back in Sunnydale. But she wouldn't think of Sunnydale now, nor of her duties and her responsibilities. They didn't matter, not here in this dimension.

She was happy. She had never felt so happy and free as she did right now. Ever since she had been called as a Slayer, there had been so many things to worry about—the Hellmouth, demons, apocalypses, the Council, the Scoobies. For these two weeks she didn't have a care in the world. She didn't even have to worry about the progress of their journey, because even that was out of her hands. Kiharn was taking care of that and word was that the negotiations were going well.

All she had to do was eat, sleep and make love. It was Heaven.

"Come and hunt," called Tirr and Serrai gave them a wicked grin across the great hall as they got to their feet.

"Do you think they need more exercise than they are already getting?"

Willow and Tara looked bewildered, but Anya, always sensitive to sexual vibes but never more than right now, flashed them a laughing, conspiratorial glance. Those Quenya sharing a human lunch around them laughed also. They all knew, of course. Even bathing couldn't keep Buffy and Spike's scent off each other, since they couldn't stay out of each other's arms.

"Anya. Anyanka," called Rihar from the terrace and Anya jumped to her feet, her eyes shining, abandoning her lunch at once.

"Tomcat calling on the back fence," murmured Spike. Tara and Willow giggled and Buffy swatted his arm lightly as they headed out to join Tirr.

"Pot, kettle, black," she muttered under her breath and he grinned at her unrepentantly.

"Wasn't criticizing. Just commenting. He's certainly not calling her to go hunting."

Anya wasn't the hunting type. But both Buffy and Spike enjoyed it, whether the Quenya did it in human form or as cats. It was fun running through the forest side by side, boar spears in their hands. The Quenya liked pork and hunted it as humans and in packs because the size and slashing tusks and cunning of the Querid boar made it a dangerous adversary. Buffy's Slayer and Spike's vamp speed and strength made them more than a match to the Quenya in human form, and they had worked out a smoothly cooperative system that allowed them to take down any boar with ease.

"You work well together," remarked Serrai after one of the hunting expeditions and Buffy thought suddenly how well they would match on a patrol, the two of them fighting demons as a team.

"What?" said Spike, catching her sideways glance.

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Patrols would be fun," he said with unnerving accuracy. He was always good at guessing what she was thinking.

"Would you do that? Help me with my patrols?"

"Sure." He tilted a sardonic eyebrow at her. "Like killing things, remember?"

The Council would have a seizure. He was a vampire after all.

"Why are Slayers always expected to fight alone?" he asked. "All those apocalypses and battles. Wouldn't they be easier with someone to help?"

Oh, they would. But...

"Can't be done," she muttered.

"Yeah. Evil here," he said dryly.

She didn't want to think about things like that right now. "Damn it, Spike! Why would you even want to fight my battles?"

He reached out and touched her face lightly. "Why do you think? For you, Slayer. For you."

Things couldn't be that simple. Not for her. He was making it so hard for her to keep her head together. She was losing all perspective. Everything was skewed. It was this world. Nothing was going to make sense until they were back in Sunnydale. And when they did, none of this could be allowed to matter.

"Don't, Spike. Don't. I don't want to think about reality right now."

"Reality is what you make it."

"That's not true." But, oh, how she wished it were!

"But you have to want it enough," he said quietly. "You don't."

She did. But it just was not possible.

"Spike..."

"Yeah. Shouldn't have brought it up. I just...never want it to end, pet."

She leaned against him, her face against his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin. "I don't either."

His arms tightened about her. "Don't you?"

"No."

"That's something."

"Don't lets talk about it, Spike! Clock's running and we're almost out of time."

"Yeah." He kissed her temple. "Wanna go swimming? Rihar showed me this waterhole the Quenya use."

"Don't have a suit."

He grinned at her. "I'd have that off you in no time anyway, pet."

"Skinnydipping in broad daylight with the Quenya all around? Nuh-uh."

"Rihar said just to toss a piece of clothing over a branch. Tells everyone the pool's being used for nookie. No one will come near."

She laughed involuntarily. "And everybody will know."

"They know already, don't they? C'mon, Slayer. How many chances am I gonna have to make love to you in the sunshine? Drop a few of those inhibitions."

"Haven't got many of those left any more," she growled, but didn't resist as he pulled her along, laughing.

The pool was beautiful, wide and deep and crystal clear, with a waterfall dropping down at one end, a hundred feet high but only five feet wide. The water was sunwarmed on the surface when she slid into it, cooler when she dived lower. 'I don't ever want to forget this,' she thought. But when they got back to Sunnydale, she would have to. She would have to block all of this out, as if it never happened. She could do that. She would.

Spike tossed his vest up into a tree where it hung like a black flag, then dived in beside her. She circled him a couple of times, then struck out across the pool. He slid after her. It became a race, the two of them laughing and flashing across the width of the pool faster than fish. Then his hand caught her ankle and pulled her down.

Yet another world, floating weightless in the clear water, twisting around each other, hands and bodies drifting lightly, teasingly over each other, skin slipping and sliding tantalizingly, mouths brushing. She set a foot on his stomach and pushed off, reaching the surface for a quick breath before his hand caught her inner thigh, gripping it and pulling her down again. She twisted to face him as she slid downwards, her open mouth sliding down his torso from shoulder to pelvis. He tried to catch her to him, but she twisted away like a seal, smiling widely, her hair flaring out as they wove spirals around each other.

He didn't need to breathe, but even though her Slayer abilities let her hold a breath longer than most, she still did. But just as her lungs began to protest, his hands caught her waist and lifted her up to the surface, his mouth burning down her spine as he did so. She took a breath, then was drawn down again. She gave herself over to him, trusting herself to him, not even having to think about breathing because he knew and lifted her smoothly to the surface whenever she needed it.

Free and weightless, underwater creatures turning and twisting and coiling about each other. A glorious feeling, another experience she didn't know how she could bear to forget.

Heating up now. Wanting more. Her legs locked about his hips; his arms tightened about her, mouth raking her breasts, drawing hard upon her nipples. She clawed at him, needing weight and friction now, not cool buoyancy.

They breached the surface with a great splash and suddenly she was lying upon a flat rock a few feet away from the falls, the spray from the waterfall cool upon her overheated body. Then he was over her, coming into her hard.

"Yes," she said, "Yes," beyond thought, given over to this purity of pleasure, letting go completely and drowning in him, her heels pressing hard against the stone to thrust up at him as forcefully as he was thrusting down.

She saw his eyes very still as he looked down at her, felt him holding the moment, held it herself, a perfection she never wanted to end, wished she could give him more for that look in his eyes, that look that she didn't want to see and yet couldn't help cherishing.

She closed her eyes against it, gave herself over to sensation, his cock driving into her, his breath harsh against her face, their bodies thrusting and straining together.

"Take it," she said, pulling his mouth to her neck, giving him the only thing she had to give. But even that was not really a gift, she thought as his fangs slid into the vein and that delirious rapture began. Not when his taking her blood was as violently pleasurable to her as it was to him.

'I'm cheating him,' she thought. 'He's giving me so much and I'm cheating him.'

Then she stopped thinking altogether as they both convulsed and her brain blanked right out.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"It's done," said Kiharn with satisfaction, dropping into a chair beside the Scoobies at breakfast a few days later and waving at Tirr to bring him a mug of ale. "The contracts have been signed and Pyar has agreed to allow you access to the Gate."

While Willow and Tara exclaimed and Anya ducked her head to toy with a slice of melon on her plate, Buffy looked over to where Spike was leaning against the balustrade of the terrace a few yards away. Their gazes met tensely. They both knew that this was the beginning of the end.

"Thank you so much for all you've done, Kiharn," she said, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. Secretly and without really admitting it to herself, she had hoped that the negotiations would run a lot longer. "We are very grateful."

"Stud contracts are common and straightforward. The business about the Gate was a negligible addendum to the standard contract. If it had been a joining of pride lords, it would have been a far more complicated and protracted process." Kiharn winced at the thought.

"What's the difference?" asked Willow curiously.

"There are three kinds of matings, yes? Mating-for-pleasure across species lines within the Quenya result in no children, therefore no contracts are needed. Mating-for-children between the prides only need a guarantee in the stud contract that the sire is permitted access to his cubs should he want it, since the cubs stay with and are raised by the mother's pride. Mating-for-heirs between pride lords is vastly more complicated." Kiharn shuddered. "Which pride takes precedence. What the status of the heirs will be. Political affiliations. A ritual three-month abstinence from sex by the female for the sake of establishing paternity. A twenty-day retreat for both partners for the mental adjustment necessary for congress with a member of another pride without death and mayhem..."

"Death?" Everyone was shocked.

"Deaths have occurred," nodded Kiharn. "Unintentionally. Matings can be very fierce, especially between pride lords where pride ascendancy can become a factor."

"Whoa," said Willow.

"Those negotiations can take months and are rare. It is easier to just seize the other pride." He shrugged, then looked around at all of them benevolently. "Will you be ready to leave in two days?"

"So soon?" blurted Buffy, then bit her lip. Spike gave her the flicker of a wry, but sweet smile.

"Isayel tells me your companion has recovered from his fever and is capable of travel."

Xander was. The fever had broken two days ago and, though he was still weak, he was getting better fast and would certainly be able to travel lying down in the wagon within a couple of days. The girls had all been spending time with him now that he was no longer contagious, mostly to distract him from the Quenya. The drafts Isayel and the healers had given him had luckily had the side effect of putting him to sleep during the time that he was ill; but now that he was no longer taking them, he was aware of the Quenya moving about him and he didn't like it one bit. Invalids being normally querulous and irritable, everyone was terrified that he might in some way offend the Quenya. The only good thing about the speed of this journey, Buffy thought, was that it would get him away from them sooner.

If only...

"It'll take a few days to get to this Dihurnin place," muttered Spike in Buffy's ear. "At least we'll have that."

"But not much privacy," she murmured back and he laughed ruefully.

"No." He looked down at her, his eyes very dark and still. "Glad you regret it, pet. Glad you're sorry it's gonna be over."

She looked away. She did regret it, but there was no other option.

'Not gonna let you out of bed for the next two days," he muttered.

They did spend those days mostly in bed, making love desperately. She could see the sadness and the resignation in those eyes watching her so intensely. She was melancholy too. Because of it, every touch, every caress, became lingering, layered with meaning and significance, painful and acutely sensitive. No one else had ever made her feel like this, had ever driven her to these heights; no one else ever would.

From a remark Xander irritably made about Anya also suddenly going missing, it became apparent to those in the know that Anya and Rihar were similarly occupied.

"She's, uh, busy," muttered Willow, stuck between a rock and a hard place. Xander was her friend, but she did have a certain sympathy for where Anya was coming from. She didn't want to lie, but she was in an invidious position and hated being stuck in the middle like this. "She's made friends around here. I suppose she's saying goodbye."

Which wasn't exactly a lie, she thought wryly and glanced at Tara who shrugged ruefully.

"Demons," growled Xander under his breath and Tara frowned at him.

"They've been very good to you, Xander," she said, not stammering at all in her earnestness. "You should be grateful. You'd still be sick if it wasn't for them."

"Well, I wouldn't have been sick at all if it wasn't for them," retorted Xander stubbornly.

"Tirr didn't mean to."

"Tirr the leopard?"

"Tirr the person who is my friend," said Tara coldly and Xander looked away.

"And where's Buffy? Is she busy too?"

"Yes," said Willow flatly. What with the way Buffy and Spike looked at each other when they thought nobody was watching, the penny had dropped for her some time ago. She didn't know exactly how she felt about Buffy being involved with Spike, but the thought didn't horrify her the way it would have previously. "We'll all be back in Sunnydale in a few days. Just let things go, Xander."

"Things? What things?" yelped Xander.

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Willow flung up her hands in exasperation and walked out of Xander's room.

"Hey, wait!" he yelled after her, then caught at Tara as she began to follow Willow. "What's been going on while I was sick?"

"Nothing that matters," said Tara, pulling free. She shut his door behind her, then caught up with Willow as she headed down to the great hall. "That's the way Giles is going to be, isn't it?"

"You know it."

"Spike...Spike really loves her, Willow. It's going to break him when we get back to Sunnydale and..."

"Yeah." Willow gave her a helpless look. "She's the Slayer. There's nothing anyone can do."

Tara sighed.

All too soon, their things were back on the wagon, their goodbyes to the Quenya were all said and they were ready to roll. Isayel was coming with them to ensure that the Pyarren kept their promise to allow them to enter Dihurnin.

"Are you going all alone?" Buffy asked Rihar as he dropped a heavy knapsack into the back of the wagon. "I thought you would have a retinue or something."

"It is not the custom. That is only for the lords." He held out a hand to help Anya, then Willow and Tara into the wagon.

"Ahn!" Xander, who was lying on a bed that had been made of him in the wagon, reached out for her. "Where have you been?"

She smiled at him stiffly. "Around."

"You still mad at me?"

Anya frowned a little and took a seat at the other end of the wagon. "We'll discuss it when we're back in Sunnydale."

"Guess you are," muttered Xander, then flinched as Serrai strolled around the side of the wagon to grin at Spike in the driver's seat.

"You should stay, White-hair. There is a place for warriors such as you in the pride. And you would have many bedmates."

Spike grinned back. "It's tempting. Can I take a raincheck?"

"That means 'maybe later,' yes?" She grinned at Buffy climbing up onto the wagon seat to take her usual shotgun position. "You are still scent-marked, White-hair. Come back when you are free."

"Never free, Serrai," Spike said simply. "Scent or not."

"Ah, well, devotion to the pride lord is always a virtue." She tilted a meaningful brow at Buffy.

Buffy shook her head at her, smiling crookedly. "Doesn't work that way in our dimension."

"But it should, pride lord."

"What?" said Xander, frowning, but Serrai was already walking off.

Rihar was coming back to the wagon after having said goodbye to his mother. Tirr waved at him from the terrace and he flung up a hand, then looked at Kiharn coming towards him. They smiled at each other, then Kiharn removed the collar from Rihar's neck, the medallion from his own, and handed them both to him.

"For your own son. And may he be a lesson to you." They both laughed. "Send me word when you have taken Arrhan."

"I _will_ take him, Father."

"I have every confidence." They hugged, then Kiharn slapped him on the shoulder and stepped back. "Go then. And good fortune, Outlanders. I hope you find your way to your own home."

"Thank you for all you've done, my lord," Buffy called as Spike slapped the reins on the backs of the horses and the wagon started to roll forward.

Rihar shifted into the black panther and ran ahead, past the horses. Isayel had them under tight control and they showed no signs of even being aware of him.

"I wish he wouldn't do that!" muttered Xander.

"Take the straight track," Isayel called to Rihar and the panther turned north-east. Isayel touched a medallion at her breast.

Blue light suddenly sprang up around them. The horses' hooves struck sparks from the road and the land about them blurred, sweeping past them at speed and wavering in their sight as if through a heat haze.

Everyone gasped.

"What's happening?" Buffy exclaimed.

"I do not have the time to spend several days traveling on this wagon," said Isayel. "So we move quickly. We will be at our destination by nightfall."

"Damn," muttered Spike under his breath. He and Buffy shared a rueful look.

"But how?" asked Willow, awed, as the landscape rushed past beyond the curtain of blue fire that surrounded them.

"We use the ley lines. Lines of power crossing the earth." Isayel held up the medallion hung around her neck. "This sigil accesses them."

"No wonder negotiations were so fast, even with a pride far distant from your own," Buffy exclaimed in realization as things connected. "The messengers could go back and forth quickly. Is the Diarchy capable of this?"

"I think not," said Isayel. "But they have other abilities that we do not. Their mages, I believe, can transpose themselves wherever they wish. We like this better, since the sigil allows nonmages also to access the lines."

Beyond the curtain of blue fire, wolves were running beside them now, playing and leaping over each other, their tongues lolling out of open, laughing jaws. Then they were gone and later a bear reared up to watch them pass, then later yet a massive tiger sauntered along, casting an indifferent glance at them and yawning elaborately.

"Are all shifters predators?" Willow asked, looking at the tiger.

"Why would anyone wish to shift into prey?" answered Isayel simply.

The landscape flowed past swiftly and steadily. Above their head, the sun reached its zenith, then started to descend. Neither the horses nor Rihar seemed tired. They appeared to be just pacing casually along, though each stride covered several yards. Towards sunset, Rihar turned suddenly off the road.

"Follow him," said Isayel and Spike turned the horses in that direction.

The blue light faded. The wagon was now traveling the same kind of dirt track they had been on when originally entering the Querid. Rihar was standing in human form beside a stream in a wide expanse of grassy meadow. He raised an arm and Spike angled the wagon off the road and towards him.

"And why do we stop?" Isayel asked Rihar when they drew up beside him. "If we continue up the road, we will reach Pyarren land before nightfall."

"We will sleep here tonight and continue on in the morning."

"So we have to camp out tonight just because he wants to make a good impression tomorrow?" Xander muttered grouchily and Anya gave him a cool look.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd be in such a hurry to get back into the company of more demons."

"Got three here already, haven't we?" he retorted and Willow jabbed an elbow into his ribs.

"Offend the powerful mage, why don't you?" she snapped under her breath and Xander subsided abruptly.

Both Isayel and Rihar ignored him.

"I have my reasons," Rihar said and went to dig a firepit while Spike and Tara unhitched and rubbed down the horses and the rest of them got out the bedrolls and began putting a meal together.

Two jackals arrived at the tree line and sat down with their tails curled around their front paws. Rihar went to meet them. They shimmered into small, very pretty human females, flirted with him for a while, then laughed, shifted again and ran off.

"There are gaiour in the forest," Rihar said, coming back. "Those two sisters don't mind us taking them because they're too large to be prey for the girls. But they like the taste of the meat, so I said we'll leave them as much as we could after we have fed."

Isayel nodded. "There will be a lot left even after the two of us are done."

"We'll need more than one."

"Oh?" Then Isayel looked around as blue light flared.

Ten leopards ran out of the blue fire, then shifted into human form as they came over the grass. Three were male, the rest female; they were all around Rihar's age; and at their head was Tirr, wearing a medallion with the ley-line sigil.

"I...see," said Isayel. "Your generation. Do you take him as lord?" she asked the newcomers.

"Yes," said all ten.

"Arrhan. But why now?" she asked Rihar. "Why not two months from now as was the plan?"

"Because I wish it so," shrugged Rihar and swept his new followers off to the tree line to talk.

"What's happening?" asked Willow anxiously.

"Challenge. Rihar intends to challenge Arrhan tomorrow for lordship of that pride."

"What?" said Anya sharply. "But he could get killed!"

"It is the Way." Isayel sighed. "It is his right."

"But what about the contract with the Pyarren?" Buffy asked.

"The contract will be met."

"But if Rihar dies..."

"Those three males are his cousins. They carry the bloodline the Pyarren want. The Pyarren will accept them as substitutes if necessary."

Rihar was coming back to them. "I and my people will set out for Arrhan's manse at first light. Isayel goes with us as witness. We will return for you when we are done."

"What if you don't come back?" asked Willow under her breath.

"Isayel will come. As witness, she is sacrosanct and no one will harm her."

His gaze lingered on Anya's worried face for a moment, then he turned away.

"Can we help?" Spike asked and Rihar grinned at him.

"Friends are always welcome. The difficulty is that a human form's only defense against a cat's attack is to kill it and that is precisely what must not happen. If I win, his people will be my people. They may be damaged, but not slain. Tirr and the others are with me solely to break through the defenses and get me to a point where Arrhan will hear me cry challenge. He must then meet me and the combat will thereupon be between the two of us."

"Only break through, huh?" Buffy was looking thoughtful. "And there I was regretting we'd left those boar spears behind. Staves, Spike?"

"Not a bad idea, Slayer. I'll go cut two. Extra thick, long ones, I'm guessing, right?"

"You got it." They grinned at each other.

"This isn't our fight, Buffy!" Xander said vehemently once Rihar had gone off again to confer with his new guard.

"I'm going," said Spike shortly, heading off with an axe towards the trees. "Slayer can come or not as she likes."

"She could get killed. Needlessly! This isn't Slayer business!"

"Rihar's my friend, Xand," said Buffy simply. "And anyway I'm dying to see how this challenge thing plays out. Tara, do you have anything in that bag of yours that might help?"

"I have no idea what might be useful," Tara confessed. "Do you mean spells?"

"No spells," said Isayel, overhearing. "We mages do not interfere with challenges."

Tara pushed her bag over to Buffy. "Here. You look."

"What are you looking for? Mace or tasers?"asked Xander sarcastically. "She won't have anything like that. Buffy, don't do this!"

"Oh, do be quiet, Xander!" snapped Anya irritably. "If you don't want to help, then just stay out of the way!"

Xander stared at her. "What's with you all of a sudden, Ahn?"

"Nothing! I don't like any of this!" She sat down close to the fire, hugging herself as if she felt cold. Tara moved to sit beside her, an arm around her shoulders.

"I know it's not Slayer business, but I don't care," said Buffy, digging around in Tara's bag, as Xander opened his mouth to protest again. "Discussion's over, Xander."

Rihar and the other Quenya went off to hunt. The humans cooked, ate, then rolled themselves up into blankets to sleep. The Quenya came back after feeding to sleep around the fire too, not needing blankets in their animal forms. Which freaked Xander totally, seeing eleven big cats and one white wolf scattered on the grass all around him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

At first light, Rihar came and touched Buffy and Spike. They both woke instantly and rose at once to follow him, leaving the Scoobies still sleeping. Only Rihar and Isayel were in their human forms. Tirr and the others moved smoothly and silently beside them in cat shape.

"I want you to go with Isayel," Rihar said quietly. "You will not have the speed to stay with us on the breakthrough and I do not wish you to be harmed. She will keep you safe."

"Until you need us," said Buffy firmly.

He smiled down at her. "Until then. But I hope there will not be need."

"Come," said Isayel. "Hold onto my robe."

Buffy and Spike each took a corner. The world suddenly blurred around them. Then they were standing under some trees on the side of a grassy verge fronting a manor house only slightly smaller than Kiharn's. A couple of leopards strolled across the terrace and both Buffy and Spike flinched.

"They will not sense us," said Isayel. "Neither see nor hear nor smell. We are phased."

"Where are Rihar and the others?" Buffy asked.

"Crossing the boundary at the moment. It will be some time before you see them arrive. It is best of course if they are so stealthy that no one sees them come until they are here. But that is unlikely. Those guards look proficient."

They waited. Buffy kept looking back towards the forest and the grassy plain that separated it from the manor house. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees and dipped the long grass in waves like a sea, but other than that there was no sign of movement.

"Has something gone wrong?" she asked worriedly at last. "Where are they?"

"In the grass."

Buffy stared at the grass, but could see nothing moving there but the wind. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. They have done well so far."

There was a snarl, then the two leopards that had been on the terrace shot past them. Spike leaped forward, but ran up against an invisible barrier.

"What the hell?"

"You are not needed yet," said Isayel calmly. "Also it would not be fair dealing to let you at their backs."

More leopards were racing around the sides of the house and down the terrace. The grassy plain had exploded into chaos, cats rolling and snarling and fighting. But there was method to the madness, Buffy could see it now—Tirr and the others running interference for Rihar who was driving a straight line through to the terrace, the manor's guards trying to hold them back.

The conflict swept past where the three of them were standing, reached the grassy verge in front of the terrace.

"Isayel!" Spike yelled.

Isayel shook her head, unmoved. "There is no need. They have it under control. And Rihar does not wish you harmed."

"No, look!" Buffy exclaimed.

Rihar had almost reached the steps to the terrace. Three guards flung themselves on him, dragging him down. Tirr threw herself on one and they rolled, slashing and kicking at each other with their powerful hind legs. Rihar broke free, striking out at the two that still clung to him. But more guards were racing around the side of the house.

"Isayel! Release us!"

The barrier dropped before Spike's yell faded and Spike was off in one great fifteen foot leap that landed him between Rihar and the newcomers. The staff in his hands swung, knocking a cat right off its feet. Another cat leapt and he caught it just below the breastbone with the blunt point of the staff, heaving it right up off the ground and throwing it to one side. Buffy landed beside him, having used her staff to pole vault over Tirr and her opponent. Her arm whipped and she flung the entire contents of the perfume bottle she had taken from Tara's bag last night into the faces of the oncoming cats.

They recoiled, coughing and sneezing, and in that moment Rihar shot through the opening, reached the foot of the terrace steps and roared.

Everything stilled. The snarling, worrying noises stopped; the struggling combatants froze in place. Into the silence, Rihar roared again, then shimmered into human form.

"Challenge!" he yelled at the house. "Challenge, Arrhan! Come out and fight!"

There was a pause, then a man stepped out of the terrace doors of the house. He was only a little older than Kiharn and he had the same gold-brown hair, but he was taller and more massive. From the way Kiharn had talked about him, Buffy had thought that he would be past it. That was clearly not so. This man was in his prime and in the flower of his strength.

"This is so not good," she muttered to Spike. "Think somebody made a mistake somewhere."

"Rihar's outweighed too," he muttered back. "Where the hell did Kiharn get his information from? Git doesn't seem to have lost any sodding edge."

"Kiharn's cub," Arrhan said, looking Rihar over with disdain. "Overambitious and prideful, as is the bloodline. Come back in a year or two, boy. Perhaps then it will actually be a challenge."

"You are challenged now," said Rihar flatly. "Or do you wish to default and simply surrender the pride?"

A fang flashed. "You do need a lesson. Perhaps that is why Kiharn sent you. Come then."

He moved forward slowly, changing into leopard as he flowed down the terrace steps. Rihar had already shifted into the panther.

Isayel drew Buffy and Spike to one side. "It is between them now. There is nothing more we can do."

Tirr came to stand beside them in her human form, biting her lip. "Father taught him well," she was muttering under her breath. "Father taught him well...Oh!"

Halfway down the steps, Arrhan had leaped straight at Rihar, claws out. But Rihar was not there. He had flashed to one side and his claws raked Arrhan's flank.

"Rihar's faster," muttered Spike. "But that's the only plus. He's got to keep moving, mustn't let the blighter clinch. That git's too powerful and those jaws can crush bone."

Rihar knew that. He avoided every effort Arrhan made to grapple, flashed in, slashed, then slid away again.

"He's young," Spike said under his breath. "He can outlast the bugger."

But Buffy couldn't help thinking that this was Rihar's first and only challenge, while Arrhan must have won many such over his years to still be lord of this domain.

The gold and black forms wove over the grass, a rippling flow of sinewy, powerful muscle. They were both bleeding now from cuts and gashes. Fangs flashed white in the sun, then the panther slammed into the leopard's shoulder, knocking him right off his feet. Rihar's jaws almost closed on Arrhan's throat, but with a desperate effort the leopard twisted away.

"That was a wolf move," exclaimed Spike. "Have you been teaching him, Isayel?"

"Yes."

"Not playing by the rule book?"

"One must always be open to new ideas."

"Arrhan's not. Think I see what Kiharn meant about him losing his edge. Still got the muscle, but not in top form. Been taking it easy maybe the last few years."

Buffy nodded. "And Rihar has some moves he's not used to. Rihar almost got him there."

"Almost's not good enough."

There was a flurry, then a snarling, clawing ball rolled over and over, the two cats entwined, kicking and tearing with their hind legs.

"Mistake!" snapped Spike. "Rihar let him get too close!"

"Sun got in his eyes," gasped Tirr. "Oh, break loose, Rihar!"

Rihar did, but he was limping now, a great gash down his left hind leg.

"Oh, no!" Tirr's claws broke out of her fingertips.

Isayel gripped her shoulder warningly to keep her from flinging herself forward. "No outside interference at this point, child! You know that."

"He won't be able to move fast enough now! He's lost his advantage! Arrhan will kill him!"

Arrhan knew it too. He swelled in triumph and leaped at Rihar. Rihar shifted.

"What?" yelped Tirr. "No! Not as human! Not as human! Rihar, shift back!"

Rihar stayed human. He ducked under Arrhan's leap, slid around him and then was on Arrhan's back, arms under Arrhan's armpits, hands locked behind Arrhan's neck. Full-nelson.

Spike gave a shout of laughter. "Open to new ideas, oh, yeah!"

There was a moment of desperate struggle while Arrhan, kicking and squalling and shocked to the core, strained against Rihar's grip and Rihar put all his strength into shoving his neck downwards. Then there was a resounding crack. Arrhan went limp. Rihar staggered to his feet, bleeding heavily, but victorious.

* * *

><p>"Can we go home now?" Xander growled when Buffy and Isayel turned up beside the wagon. He had volunteered to stay and look after the horses when Anya, Willow and Tara all wanted to go see Rihar's newly won domain. As far as he was concerned, when you'd seen one manor full of Quenya, you'd seen them all and he couldn't understand how buddy-buddy the girls were being with them.<p>

Anya even seemed worried about that Rihar guy who was so full of himself. He was another one just like Spike, all arrogance and attitude, strutting around all cock of the walk, showing off his pecs and looking at Xander with barely concealed disdain. And he was a demon, which probably explained why Anya was so much at ease with him. When they got back to Sunnydale and things were thankfully back to normal, he'd have to make a point of warning Anya that being friendly with demons was unacceptable, not something a human would do. Anya never understood the right way to behave as a human, even after all the time he spent trying to point it out to her.

"We'll be going home soon," Buffy said, not sounding as pleased about that as he had hoped. Except for him, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in this horrible dimension and didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave it.

"When's soon? Don't tell me we have to stick around until this Rihar jer...guy gets himself dug in as bigshot around here?" Xander's eyes widened in horror. "That contract with those Pyar people still stands, doesn't it? It hasn't fallen through just because he's made himself a pride lord now?"

"Yeah, it has, but..."

"Buffy!"

"They have to renegotiate that contract. Xander, calm down!" Buffy soothed as Xander swelled up on the verge of an explosion. "It won't affect us. The Pyarren have already sent an emissary and she agrees that Rihar's change of status shouldn't be allowed to impact on ours. They're willing to let us pass through the Gate tonight as a gesture of goodwill towards the new negotiations with Rihar."

"Well, thank God! Let's hope he doesn't start throwing his weight around till then. You know how suddenly becoming King Shit can give some assholes a swelled head."

Buffy gave him a long, cool look. "Well, this asshole was kind enough to make our having access to that Gate the very first matter of business when the emissary turned up. And that was when he was in pain from the wounds he took in battle and busy trying to get things settled with his new pride. I wouldn't have blamed him if he had simply forgotten all about us and shoved us onto a back burner until things calmed down. Rihar and Kiharn and all the Quenya have been very good to us."

"Never said they haven't," muttered Xander, backing off hurriedly under her severe gaze.

"Just try to be polite until nightfall. That's not that long, is it?"

"When am I not polite?" growled Xander and pulled a half-wry, half-offended face when Buffy rolled her eyes.

The rest of the day went if not quickly, at least peacefully for him. Isayel took Buffy back to the manse and brought Willow and Tara back to the wagon, Anya and Spike having for some reason chosen to copy Buffy and stay with Rihar. Willow and Tara were all excited about Rihar's new position and couldn't stop talking about that and the smoothness with which the new regime was slotting itself into place. Xander had no interest in either Rihar or weird power transitions, so blocked out their chattering voices by rolling himself up in his blankets and falling asleep in the wagon. He still felt weak from that fever, and it was the only way to get through a long and boring day.

Towards sunset, Isayel brought Buffy, Spike and Anya back. To Xander's dismay, Rihar was with them, accompanied by Tirr and a small contingent of guards. Rihar was bandaged up, but already carrying himself with the authority of his new position. Pride lord at twenty and, boy, was he making the most of it, thought Xander resentfully. Strutting peacock.

His sister, Tirr, was giving smooth, quiet orders to the new guards, throwing her weight around as well. Willow had said that she was the captain of Rihar's guard now. Nepotism, clearly, since at her age she certainly could not be considered qualified for the job and had presumably usurped the role of a far more experienced person. He looked at the guards she was ordering around. He hadn't seen any of them before. They probably belonged to this pride and they were all older. But they all acted as if everything was completely normal and showed no resentment of either Rihar's murderous land grab or Tirr's self-promotion. All in a day's work.

No loyalty, thought Xander, shaking his head. If Rihar got killed off tomorrow by some other greedy upstart just like himself, they'd go along with that one too quite happily. It would serve Rihar right, Xander thought, and found himself hoping that it would happen.

He tried to talk to Anya, but she was still giving him the cold shoulder and took a seat as far away from him in the wagon as she could. Xander was starting to get angry about that. She was acting as if he had done something wrong and he honestly couldn't figure out what. If anything, she was the one who had acted badly, neglecting him like that when he was sick, then giving him such a hard time while making up to all these demon Quenya instead. When they got back to Sunnydale, they really would have to have a talk about the proper way for an ex-demon to behave if she wanted to be thought human.

They were all ready to go now. Isayel was standing on the wagon bed, one hand lightly on Spike's shoulder as he picked up the reins. Xander saw with irritation that Rihar was climbing up to ride shotgun beside Spike, taking the spot Buffy usually sat, and Buffy was climbing over to sit in the wagon right behind the jerk. It seemed that Rihar had decided to come to the Pyarren holding to make sure that the Pyarren kept their word. In one sense, Xander was relieved about that, but he still would have preferred to see the last of Rihar right here.

All the girls, including Buffy, leaned down to hug Tirr goodbye. She laughed and waved, then shifted into that unsettling leopard form with the other guards and slid off into the forest. Xander hated seeing how comfortable the girls were with the Quenya, especially Buffy, who as a Slayer should have been cutting their heads off, not chatting so happily with Rihar as the wagon moved forward. Isayel touched the medallion on her breast and that weird blue fire started up again. Xander swallowed hard.

"Thank you for taking the time to come with us," Buffy was saying to Rihar. "I know how much work you've got in front of you to get everything set up your way with the new pride."

"Best to take things slow and let them get adjusted to me," said Rihar. "Tonight they will hold the rites for Arrhan. By custom, the new pride lord does not attend. Tirr and my cousins will be there as the torch is passed. It suits me to be away." He grinned at her. "This is far more entertaining."

"If you had died instead, would there have been rites for you?" Buffy asked curiously.

"Unlikely. Arrhan had little courtesy and a dislike of my father. He would not have returned my corpse to Kiharn. My body would have been thrown in a ditch somewhere for the scavengers to feast upon."

"And your followers? Tirr and the others?"

"Arrhan would not have harmed them. Custom demands that they be allowed to go where they please." He looked at her curiously. "Does it trouble you, our Way?"

"It is different, but I'm learning to adapt."

"A prerequisite of growth," remarked Isayel and Buffy saw Spike turn his head to cock a sardonic eyebrow at her.

"Oh, shut up," she said crossly and he laughed.

The Pyarren were waiting for them at the border. Isayel courteously let the ley lines deactivate and they went on at only the regular pace of the wagon, the Pyarren guard flowing along beside them in cat form.

Pyar met them on the terrace of her manor house, a lean, lithe, sinewy woman with a tough, intelligent face. She was old enough to be Buffy's mother, but warrior through and through. Buffy could see how she held her position.

Rihar drank from the guest-cup she held out, then passed it to Buffy to signify that she too was to be considered a pride lord. Buffy drank, then handed the cup back to Pyar, who looked her over thoughtfully.

"Curious times," said Pyar. "I never thought to see folk as strange to us as we are to the Diarchy."

"The world is more than we know," said Isayel. "And these outlanders only wish to return to their own. Will you allow them access to the Gate at Dihurnin, pride lord?"

"For a consideration." Pyar gave Rihar a sardonic smile and he grinned back.

"Your emissary has seen my blood-relations. Is three for one acceptable compensation for the discourtesy of not fulfilling my contract before offering challenge to Arrhan?"

"My emissary speaks well of your people, pride lord. It is a generous apology and will be accepted when we rewrite the contract. And how are the Riharren adjusting?"

Arrhan's pride would of course now be called that, but it was the first time they had been named so and it took Rihar himself a moment to adjust.

"It goes well so far," he said with a sweet and faintly shy smile. Pyar smiled back and exchanged a thoughtful glance with Isayel.

"We approve the change. It has possibilities. Though the consensus seems to be that we may have lost something by it."

"Definitely," murmured the female behind Pyar, the captain of her guard, with a half-lidded look at Rihar.

Rihar laughed, but color showed for a moment across his cheekbones under that frank appraisal.

"Decorum, Sallah," said Pyar sternly, but her lips twitched. "Something my pride is not notable for. No offense meant, pride lord."

"None taken. And it is my loss too."

"You are courteous." She looked at Buffy. "How soon would you wish to access Dihurnin?"

"If it's not too much trouble, as soon as possible. We have been away too long and I don't know how conditions may be back home."

"Yes, I understand the responsibilities," Pyar nodded, then glanced over her shoulder at her captain. "Sallah, show them the way."

"I will accompany them," said Rihar firmly and came with them as Sallah led the way back to the wagon.

Dihurnin turned out to be a massive and imposing stone temple at the heart of the Pyarren domain. The Gate was buried deep within its bowels and Buffy knew that they would never have been able to either force or sneak their way in there. Only the agreement that Kiharn had achieved and Rihar had upheld allowed them to reach it.

"The end of the road," said Spike softly at her back. "Are you sorry?"

"Yes," she said.

He put out a hand and drew her behind a massive stone column where they would be hidden from sight. She glanced warily back at the others around the column. Isayel was setting up braziers and putting out ingredients for the portal-opening spell that she was going to cast, and Willow and Tara were helping her. Sallah had automatically formed up an honor guard around Rihar as a visiting pride lord who had to be kept safe, and Anya was studiously ignoring Xander who kept glowering at her. No one was paying them any attention.

"I wish..." Then she bit her lip and shook her head.

"What?" he asked.

"Too many things. All impossible."

He bent and kissed her softly. "They don't have to be."

"They are." She couldn't help reaching up to stroke his face. "Once we're back in Sunnydale, this between us can't happen. We're better off far away from each other."

"You might be. I'm not."

"No way out."

"I love you, Buffy."

"Spike!"

He smiled twistedly at her. "Just wanted to say it once."

"You can't...You mustn't..."

"I do."

He pulled her hard against him and she held him as fiercely, knowing that this was the last time. They kissed and kissed again, arms tight around each other.

"Buffy?" Willow was calling. "Where'd she go?"

"I'll go look for her," Xander said.

Buffy pulled away from Spike. He let her go and leaned back against the stone column. She pressed her hand against his cheek for a moment, then stepped away.

"I'm here."

"We're almost ready," Willow said. "Isayel's going to start the spell in a few minutes."

"I want to go too," said Rihar suddenly. "I want to see what their world is like."

Isayel frowned.

"You wouldn't like it, Rihar," Tara said softly.

"I am curious. Can it be made possible, Isayel?"

"Going is not difficult," said Isayel. "You step through the Gate with these others. Coming back however becomes a little more intricate."

"It's not safe for him," Buffy objected.

"Can keep an eye on him if you like," said Spike, arriving quietly beside them. He and Rihar smiled at each other.

Isayel had taken a sigil out of her robes. She passed her hand over it until it melted into another shape, then bound it upon Rihar's left wrist.

"Time values between our worlds may be out of joint, so it is better that I do not choose a time for your return. When you are ready to come home, go back to the arrival point and press this sigil. It will tell me to open the Gate again."

"Simple enough," said Spike approvingly. "That's what I like about you Quenya. You never complicate matters. You find out what has to be done and then you just do it."

Isayel smiled. "How else? Now." She held out a hand to Buffy. "Think of where you wish to be. I will do the rest."

Buffy concentrated. A few moments later, the Gate opened—a black seam in the air, rapidly widening.

"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Xander and jumped through, dragging Anya with him.

The rest of them followed, through a storm of whirling black and golden sparks, found themselves standing in the living room of 1630 Revello Drive, with the Gate snapping closed behind them.

Giles and Angel were standing staring at them, their mouths agape, Joyce was running out of the kitchen and Dawn was flinging herself down the stairs.

"Buffy, you're back!"

"Where have all of you been?"

"What happened?"

Buffy laughed. "One at a time, please!"

There was a scramble of hugging and kissing. Xander collapsed onto the couch and let out a huge sigh of relief. Rihar was looking around in wonder and Spike had leaned a shoulder against the living room door jamb and was watching them all sardonically.

"But where were all of you?" Giles demanded.

"In another dimension." Buffy looked in surprise at Angel. "What are you doing here, Angel?"

"Giles needed help finding out where you had all gone."

"It was this guy, Doc," she explained. "He was trying to get rid of us so that Glory would win. How long have we been away?"

"A week! A whole week!" exclaimed Joyce. "Oh, honey, we were so worried!"

"Only a week!" Buffy shook her head. "It was a lot longer for us."

"Who is Doc?" asked Giles, focusing on the threat.

"A demon," said Spike. "Has plenty of mojo and Slayer was in his way."

"And he sent _you_ with her?" Angel growled.

"Spike's been a real help to us," said Buffy quickly.

"_Spike _has?"

Rihar had stopped looking with fascination at the lamps and was now standing beside Spike. There was a dangerous red light in his eyes as he looked at Angel and he was scowling. Clearly he was considering taking up arms on Spike's behalf. Spike laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him back, since the last thing they needed right now was another vamp-cat fight starting right here in Buffy's living room.

"Look, it's a long story," Buffy said hurriedly. "We'll explain it to you once we've all had a bath and something to eat."

"Oh, you must be hungry!" said Joyce and dived back into the kitchen.

"Who's that?" asked Giles, frowning at Rihar.

"Tourist," said Spike dryly. "Gonna show him the town." He glanced out of the window. "Already dark. Come on, Rihar. You're gonna love the nightlife. The bunch of you can take him around in the daylight tomorrow."

"We'd be glad to do that," Tara said quickly and they both smiled at her.

Then Spike looked back at Buffy. "Right then. We're off. See you around, Slayer."

Their gazes met. His eyes were very dark and still. They looked at each other for a long moment, then he ducked his head in a bow, turned on his heel and walked out, taking Rihar with him.

"Finally," muttered Xander as the door closed behind the two of them.

But Tara, Willow and Anya were all looking worriedly at Buffy.

"That's the way it has to be," she said determinedly, not meeting their eyes, and turned away.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"That one was a vampire too, was he not?" asked Rihar as he and Spike walked down Revello Drive. "Like you."

"Angel's a vamp, yeah. But not like me. He has a soul."

"He is your rival?"

"Big time. Her one true love."

"Why do you not fight him for her?"

"I do. The only way I can. By allowing her to make the choice." He gave Rihar a twisted smile. "That is _our _way."

Rihar nodded abruptly. "Pride lords choose. They cannot be fought for. And she is pride lord."

Spike laughed a little. "That's one way of looking at it." He gave Rihar a slanting, sideways glance. "You too have been going about fighting in a different way recently."

Rihar flushed. "The human is too breakable. One blow would smash his head like an egg. It is too easy. No honor in it."

"So instead you called challenge two months early and broke the contract with the Pyar."

"Pride lords cannot be held to mating contracts. I had to become a lord to free myself." He looked up at a streetlight in fascination. "What are these lights? The Slayer has smaller ones, but similar."

"Electricity. Come on. I'll take you up on the roof of the high school. You'll get a good view of the town from there."

Rihar jumped sideways as a car went by. "What is that?" he asked, staring after it in horror.

Spike grinned. "Our kind of wagon. Self-powered, no horses. They move fast, so don't step out in front of them."

"They stink."

"You get used to it."

Rihar was fascinated by the nighttime view of Sunnydale spread out in lights.

"So many houses. So many people." He sounded at once awed and appalled.

"And this is only a small town. You should see our cities. Millions of people."

Rihar shuddered. "That is too many. I do not want to see."

Grinning, Spike took him on a whirlwind tour of Sunnydale, from the museums and the college, to the mall and the Bronze, to lowlife areas like Willy's and even a strip joint, getting a charge out of Rihar's transfixed reactions.

"Are there no wild places?" Rihar asked finally.

"Getting smaller and smaller. There are still areas where cats like you can roam free, down in the jungles of the Amazon, for instance. But it's primitive there. No place for a woman." Spike grinned at him. "Your own world has a better mix of nature and civilization."

Rihar colored. "I would not leave the pride without a leader anyway. I was just curious."

"Yeah, sure."

"And I wished to see what my true competition is," admitted Rihar.

"Just remember that love matters a lot more than life style to most women."

"To Anya?"

"She's lived a lot of different life styles already. One more won't matter." Spike angled them towards Restfield. "Something I have to pick up."

A Grathar jumped them as they walked through the cemetery. Spike vamped out, Rihar flashed into cat shape, and between the two of them they took it down easily.

"So this is a demon," Rihar said, studying the dead Grathar with interest as Spike dragged it into the bushes. "Why do you hide it?"

"Humans here don't know about them. Gonna get a couple of Firoud to dispose of it later. Try not to go cat again, yeah? People here see you like that, they'll put you in a cage. Cats don't belong in cities."

"Don't like your cities," muttered Rihar. "Cages. No trees. Nothing to hunt but humans. Stone and metal and artificial, not even normal, magics. One cannot feel the land under one."

"It has its advantages. It's a state of mind, mate." Spike grinned at him. "And for a vamp, the hunting's perfect. Just gotta get something out of my crypt. Wait here, okay?"

Rihar blinked when he came out of the crypt with a sword in his hand. "You plan conflict?"

"Just gonna pay a call on an old friend. I'll take you back to Revello Drive first."

"May I not come with you? I will not interfere, just observe."

"If you want."

No invitation needed for a vamp to enter a demon's abode. Spike just walked right in through Doc's door and Doc looked up at him from where he was mulling over a spell in his bathrobe at the table, his eyes wide in shock and magnified hugely by the lenses of his spectacles.

"How...?"

"Told you no one can keep the Slayer chained up for long. We're all back. And so is she."

"And you didn't kill her! What kind of a demon are you?"

"My own."

Spike flashed forward and Doc flung up a hand for a spell that would burn him in his tracks.

There was a reverberating snarl from the door and Doc jerked around, staring in disbelief at the sight of the panther crouched in the opening. In that moment of inattention, Spike swung the sword hard. It slashed right through Doc's neck, cutting his head from his shoulders. His body collapsed, fire from his fingers scorching across the carpet, then fading as the life left the corpse. The head rolled across the floor, the spectacles falling away, broken in half.

"Nice timing," said Spike appreciatively as Rihar shifted back to human.

"This was your Slayer's enemy, yes?"

"The one who sent us into your dimension. Better to have him out of the way. Didn't want him getting any more bright ideas how to hurt my girl."

"Is the danger then over for her?"

"One more little chore." Spike glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. "Yeah, he's on nights this month. Should be coming off shift about now."

At an hour from dawn, the parking lot at Sunnydale Hospital was deserted. Spike and Rihar waited until Ben came out and crossed to his car. Halfway there, he was intercepted by a small figure in a brown robe and the two of them began to argue.

"Doc really shouldn't have removed my chip," Spike remarked as he moved forward. "This is gonna be embarrassingly easy. If that Jinx git gets in the way, just take him out of the picture without damaging him, okay?"

"Okay."

"Hey," said Spike, strolling up to the squabbling pair. "Ben, right?"

"Yes." Ben looked him over, startled. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. How's the alter-ego?"

"What?"

"Glory."

Ben's eyes widened and he started to back away.

"It's a pity in a way. Know it's not your fault, but really this Glory bird is getting to be a pain in the ass."

Jinx leaped at him. "You can't hurt him!"

"Oh, yes, I can." Spike grinned as Rihar went into cat form and pinned Jinx flat on the ground with one massive paw. "No soul here. No problems squashing him like a bug."

He reached out and casually broke Ben's neck.

"Really shouldn't have come to Sunnydale, mate." He let the body drop and watched as the light faded out of Ben's staring eyes. For a fractional second, the furiously angry face of a pretty blonde girl overlaid Ben's features. Then it disappeared as if it had never been. "Okay, Rihar, you can let the hobbit up now."

Rihar stood up, shifting back into human. Jinx sat up and stared at Ben's body. Then he burst into racking sobs, rocking back and forth on the ground. Spike bent down and patted his shoulder.

"Sorry about that, but it had to be done. Suggest you lot leave this dimension, yeah? Nothing for you here now."

He and Rihar walked away, leaving Jinx still crying in the parking lot.

"Almost dawn," said Spike, glancing up at the sky. "Better get you back to the Slayer's place. Vamps and the sun don't mix here."

The sky had lightened, but the first rays of sunlight hadn't crossed the horizon by the time they got back to Revello Drive.

Spike stopped in front of the house. "Still people moving around in there. Guess they're all still talking over what happened. Watcher can chew the fat for hours."

Rihar looked at him. "You're not coming in, are you?"

"No." He grinned at Rihar. "And you're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Curiosity satisfied?"

"Oh, yes. It is too strange a world. I could not live in it. But it has many wonders. I see why those of you who are born here would not wish to leave it."

"Ask her," said Spike and Rihar smiled crookedly.

"I will."

Spike put out a hand and they gripped forearms, respect and liking strong between them.

"Good luck," said Spike.

"And to you," said Rihar meaningfully.

Spike hunched his shoulders. "Not much chance of that."

Rihar watched him as he strode away, duster flying, then went quietly into the house. There were five people in the sitting room. The older man with glass things perched on his nose, the morose vampire who was Spike's rival, the irritating blackhaired human, the Slayer and Anya. The two females of the Slayer's family and the magelettes were gone. From the scent of perfume and soap on them, both the Slayer and Anya had taken baths. The Slayer was wearing new clothes, but Anya was still in her Quenya leathers.

"You're back," said Buffy, smiling. "How did you like our world?"

From the stunned look on his face, it had totally freaked him, Buffy thought. She laughed, but gently. She liked Rihar very much.

"It is...interesting," he said with careful politeness. "Have you been waiting for me? I am sorry I took so long and kept you from your beds."

"Oh, we had to talk about this situation with Doc anyway."

"Also they didn't know whether Spike could be trusted to bring you back in one piece," muttered Xander, sounding as if he wished Spike hadn't.

Rihar gave him a cool look. "He is a good comrade. He can be trusted."

Xander snorted and Giles and Angel exchanged dryly amused glances.

"You don't know him very well," said Giles and Buffy frowned. That had a very patronizing edge to it. Rihar seemed to think so as well, because his brows went up.

"Better than you do, it seems. This situation you mentioned. This Doc? You do not have to concern yourselves with him. Spike has killed him for you."

"What?" said Giles in shock. "Why would he do that?"

"The Slayer knows."

Buffy flushed and looked away from that level, forest-green gaze. Rihar shared Anya's unsettling directness and he was completely on Spike's side.

"What do you mean by that?" Angel said sharply, but Rihar ignored him. Instead, he was studying Anya, who was sitting pressed up against the side of the couch, leaning as far away from Xander as she could and looking very irritated.

"Has he been harassing you again?" asked Rihar in a dangerous voice.

Buffy had been aware of Xander talking to Anya about the other dimension and the demons in it in a low, continuous mumble that she hadn't really paid much attention to because she and Giles and Angel had been so intent on discussing the problem of Glory and Doc. She hadn't noticed until this moment how resistant Anya had been to the subject or how her eyes were flashing with suppressed anger right now. Rihar had noticed at once.

"I don't harass her!" Xander yelped.

"No, you just tell her how to think, how to act, and make her feel bad when she doesn't do as you say. Shall I kill him for you?" he asked Anya.

"No!" said Anya quickly as Xander gasped in shock and Giles and Angel jerked forward to protect him if Rihar made a move.

"I really do not understand you people," Rihar said. "You make everything so complicated. I am going back to my world."

"Good riddance," muttered Xander, safe behind the shield of Giles' outstretched arm.

Rihar held out a hand to Anya. "Will you come with me, Anyanka?"

"What? How can you think she'd even consider that?" yelled Xander.

But Anya was taking Rihar's hand and smiling as she rose. Xander grabbed at her and missed.

"Ahn, are you crazy? They're all demons there!"

"Why should that bother me, Xander?"

"But...but think! You'll be just one of who knows how many pride females! He's even contracted to those Pyarren women!"

"The contract was broken when I became pride lord," said Rihar, "and you heard Pyar agree to accept my three cousins in my place. Pride lords cannot be forced to take mates. You would be the only one, beloved."

"That's why you broke the contract. Challenged two months early. Fought Arrhan and almost got yourself killed." Anya was looking at Rihar with shining eyes. "For me."

He smiled at her. "Yes."

"Ahn, no!" exclaimed Xander, shocked that Rihar unbelievably seemed to be winning. "What about us?"

"What about us, Xander?" Anya didn't even look at him. "You never wanted me. I was the one who always made the running. All you want are the orgasms I give you. You don't want me."

"That's not true!"

"Then why are you always trying to change me? Rihar likes me the way I am. He makes me feel good about myself. He makes me happy."

"Ahn, if it bothers you that much, you can be whatever you like!"

"You just say that. Tomorrow you'll go right back to stepping on me again. You're a silly little boy, Xander, and I've waited too long for you to grow up."

"You'll be trapped in that dimension! What if you hated it there? You'd never be able to come back!"

"Isayel would open the Gate for you any time you want," Rihar said. "The little mage, Tara, told me about vacations. Think of it as a vacation, Anyanka. Just a short while. A year..."

"Or two?" Anya was laughing, her hand clasped tightly in both of his.

"Or...forever?"

"I like the sound of that," purred Anya and reached out with her free hand and pressed the sigil bound around Rihar's wrist.

A black line began to form in the air behind them.

"Go Anya!" said Buffy, smiling. "You like it there and it doesn't matter if you're human. Rihar will keep you safe."

"Nowhere's safe from Glory," muttered Giles under his breath, his mind firmly on what he considered important.

Rihar overheard. "Glory. That is this Ben person, is it not? You do not need to concern yourself any longer with that enemy either. Spike broke his neck. The creature is dead."

"Spike did _what_?"

But Rihar wasn't listening. He had scooped Anya up into his arms and was walking into the Gate. Black and gold sparks whirled around them as they kissed. Then the Gate snapped shut and they were gone.

"Ahn!" wailed Xander, but no one was listening to him. They were all staring at each other, thunderstruck by Rihar's unexpected revelation.

"Who's Ben?" demanded Angel.

"He's a medical intern at Sunnydale Hospital," said Buffy. "But I don't understand. Rihar said Glory was Ben and that doesn't make any sense!"

"We can look into that later," said Giles sharply. "The thing that concerns me right now is that Spike killed a human."

Buffy caught her breath. "The chip! I did know that it didn't work in the other dimension, but he didn't say anything about it not working in this one!"

"No, he wouldn't," said Angel harshly.

"He's free now!" Giles said in horror. "Without a chip! He's a killer and he's loose in Sunnydale! We have to stop him!"

"Where are your stakes?" Angel got to his feet. "The sooner we do this, the fewer people will die."

"No!" said Buffy sharply.

"Buffy, it has to be done," said Giles. "I know he helped you in that other dimension. But gratitude can only be taken so far. Spike is a vampire and he doesn't have a soul. He absolutely will feed and kill. We have to stake him."

"_Don't you touch him!_" Then Buffy recovered herself. "That's my job. My responsibility. This is all my fault. I'll take care of him."

* * *

><p>He was of course in his crypt, sitting in his ancient green armchair watching television when she walked in, his duster thrown over a sarcophagus and his legs comfortably stretched out in front of him. He got up to turn off the TV, then tilted a provocative eyebrow at her.<p>

"Wondered how long it would take you to get here."

Buffy glowered at him.

"The chip's gone." Not a question; a flat statement.

He grinned. "Yeah."

"How?"

"Want a drink?" He started to move towards the fridge.

"No. Answer the question."

He sat back down on the arm of the chair and smirked at her. "How do you think? Doc took it out when he dropped me into that other dimension."

"Payment up front for killing us."

"That was the idea. But it kinda backfired on him."

It certainly had. She gritted her teeth.

"And you were going to get around to telling me about it when?"

"I just did, didn't I?"

"Rihar did."

"Thought he would. He wasn't to know how you gits would react to the mention of my killing Ben."

"And you wanted him to mention it. You were throwing down the gauntlet!"

He gave her a sideways, amused glance. "Pretty much."

"Damn it, Spike! You killed a human! Doc was a demon. But Ben was human!"

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"He was innocent, Spike!"

"Was he? He knew what his alter-ego was planning. But he chose to come to Sunnydale. If he were truly innocent and well meaning and all that crap, he'd have stayed the hell away from here. Turned down the job at Sunnydale Hospital, found another town where he could do his internship. Kept Glory from ever coming to Sunnydale. Fought her. But he didn't. It was easier to go along with the status quo. That's not innocence, Slayer. Turning a blind eye to something is complicity, not innocence. He went along with evil and that makes him an accomplice. Even human law says that accomplices are just as guilty as the perpetrators."

"You're splitting hairs!"

"No. You are. He was human and a doctor and he saved lives. Fine. But the other side of him was Glory. A hellgod bent on destroying universes. Even if you managed to defeat her in the end, how many people would have died or been damaged before you could make that happen? This way, only one person did."

"Oh, that sounds so good and right! One person's life against hundreds. The good of one beside the good of many. But that's not the way it works, Spike! If one person's life has no value, then multiples of lives have no value! Zero multiplied by a million is still zero. Numbers can't be allowed to matter!"

"Oh, I know. That's why you wouldn't have been able to kill him. You'd have gone up against Glory instead. But a hellgod can't be killed! No way to win in that scenario. I don't have a soul, Slayer. And I don't give a damn about the principles that cause you such heartburnings. To me, things are simple. Ben was Glory. Glory was a threat to you. Glory had to die. So I killed Ben. Problem solved."

"Spike..." She rubbed her hands across her face helplessly.

He just sat there, watching her steadily. No apologies, no trace of guilt. Totally Spike. This is what I am; this is what I do; this is the nature of the beast. Take it or leave it.

"What am I going to do with you?"

He grinned at her, that vivid flash of a smile, long creases slashing down his cheeks. Half-mockery, half-sweetness.

"Well, that's the question, innit?"

"You knew Rihar would say it right out where everybody would hear. You were throwing down the gauntlet not only to me, but to Giles and Angel and Xander as well, weren't you?"

"Oh, yeah." He tilted his head quizzically. "What happened with Rihar and Demongirl anyway?"

She waved that away in exasperation. "You're the one in trouble, not them! Focus, Spike!"

"Well, I want to know. Told him to ask her. Did he?"

Buffy sighed deeply. "He asked and she said yes and they went back into the looking glass. Can we get back to what's important now?"

"Brilliant! At least they'll be happy."

She wanted to pound her head against the wall. "That's all you're thinking about? Giles and Angel and Xander want to dust you for being able to kill humans again and all you're thinking about is whether Anya and Rihar are happy?"

"Have a soft spot for lovers, Slayer. That's what counts, innit? Love."

Of course it was...for him.

"You are driving me insane!" She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Look, you've got to get out of Sunnydale."

"You're not gonna stake me, Slayer? Thought that was what you came for."

"I can't stake you, Spike! I told you that."

"Why? Because we fucked? You killed Angel and you love him. You don't love me. It should be easy."

His eyes were at once shadowed and mocking as he watched her. He was smiling a little.

"Dammit! Do you _want _me to stake you?"

"Just trying to understand, pet."

"Angel was trying to destroy the world. You're not. All I want is for you to leave."

His head tilted. The scarred eyebrow went up. "What difference does my leaving make?"

"Look. I get why you killed Ben. But all Giles and Angel and Xander are going to see is that you killed a human. That there's nothing stopping you now from feeding and killing as you like. If I don't stake you, they will."

"I'm not afraid of those three gits. I'm not so easy to kill now I've got that chip out of my head."

"They'll keep after you. And it won't be stakes. It won't be close-up like that, now that they know the chip is gone and you can fight back. It will be with crossbows at long range when you're not looking. Sooner or later, they'll get you. But if you leave town, if you're not right here under their noses, they'll forget about you. We can't patrol the whole world. Sunnydale and the Hellmouth is all they care about."

"So I should leave town and go and kill someplace else?"

"I..." She stopped abruptly, seeing where he was going with this. "Oh, come on! Don't do this to me, Spike!"

"It's all right if I kill people as long as it's not in your town? Where are your principles, Slayer?"

"For God's sake, Spike!"

"Why aren't you staking me, Slayer?"

"_Stop pushing me!_"

"But that's what I do, pet," he said softly.

She looked at him sitting there so casually, one hand on the back of the armchair, the other lightly on his thigh. All loose and relaxed, his head a little down, the corners of his mouth indented in amusement, the vividly blue eyes faintly smiling, but very dark and intent on hers.

"You wouldn't fight back if I staked you, would you?"

"No."

"But you are fighting. In your own way."

"Oh, yeah."

"The reckless gamble. Everything on one throw."

He said nothing, just watched her. She looked heavenwards in exasperation, then let out her breath in a little shuddering sigh.

"You drive me crazy. You never give up, do you?"

"Not when it's this important, pet."

"You're making this so hard. Spike, you have to leave Sunnydale."

"I don't leave, pet. That's the thing you never understand. Maybe because of those other gits leaving you. Me, I don't leave. Ever."

She came and put her hands on his shoulders and looked at him for a long time. He looked back steadily, his eyes very grave and still. His hands settled lightly on her upper arms, which were bare under the short-sleeved T-shirt she was wearing. She felt his skin cool against hers, the delicacy of his touch that in no way constrained her.

Beautiful face; beautiful body; those eyes watching her the way no one had ever looked at her before, as if there was nothing more precious in the whole world. That gaze and the scent of him brought back all the rest—the vivid sensory memory of his weight on her, his body filling hers, his lips whispering endearments into her skin. If Giles and Angel caught up with him, that would all be gone to dust. All that love and devotion gone.

"I thought I had it all worked out," she sighed. "We'd come back home and we'd be friends and everything would run along smoothly like that. But you're not going to let that happen, are you? It's just not fair!"

"You know what they say, pet. All's fair in love and war."

"And this is both. Giles and Angel..."

"They're not important, luv."

"I can't lose you, Spike!"

He smiled suddenly, then leaned forward and kissed her very delicately.

"You never will if you don't want to, pet. We'll work something out."

She pressed her forehead against his, her body leaning into his, her arms winding around his neck. All her doubts and uncertainties were gone. She knew exactly what she wanted. Everything just suddenly slotted into place for her, very simply, very surely, into one shining moment of clarity. Of absolute rightness.

"You know what I did on my way here, Spike? I broke into the Magic Box."

He laughed involuntarily. "Bit of B and E? Where _have_ your principles gone, luv?"

"They got modified. Lioslath saying I live in a box, telling me to break free, judge for myself. Well, I'm doing that now. It's not whether a being has a soul that matters, but how that being acts. The Council says no soul means evil. But you don't act evil, any more than the Quenya do. I can't even say that killing Ben was evil, not when it's saved us from an apocalypse."

"That was for you, pet. Didn't do it because it was good."

"Worked out that way though. You may not have a soul, but you've got a heart. And you're doing better with that heart than most people do with a soul. Don't have to _be _good, Spike. Not the way I see it now. Just have to _act_ good."

"And how do I do that?"

"Fight at my side. Not kill people. Drink only from me."

"I can do that," he said quietly.

"Will you?"

"Yes. Anything you want, luv."

"Giles and Angel won't believe that. They'd still try to dust you. That's why I broke into the Magic Box. To look through some of Giles' books and try to find some way to keep them from doing that."

He gave her an amused, dubious look. "And did you?"

"Yes. I found out that, if we're claimed, they can't kill you without killing me."

He caught his breath sharply. "Buffy!"

"It's the only solution."

"But, Buffy! You don't understand! You mustn't have read far enough! A claim...that's a permanent link between us. An absolute, binding link. Irrevocable. Only death breaks the bond!"

"Exactly."

"But...but...Giles, the Council...A Slayer tied irrevocably to a vampire? Buffy, you can't want that!"

"Oh, but I do. I could live with you leaving Sunnydale. I'd hate being without you, but I'd know you'd be alive. I can't live knowing you're dust. I love you, Spike."

"_Buffy!_" He looked as if he were going to pass right out with shock. "H-how? When?"

"I don't know. I think it's been growing on me for a long while, but I've been fighting it. When Giles and Angel wanted me to stake you, it hit me. I wanted to kill them. Giles is my Watcher and more to me than my father, and Angel is the man I first loved. But I wanted to kill them. That's when I knew. I love you more, Spike."

"Oh, God, Buffy! I love you so much! I never thought...I never dreamed...All I ever wanted was to be with you, to be allowed sometimes to make love to you...But this! No one ever..." He caught her to him fiercely. "Buffy, do you mean it?"

She held him as fiercely. "I mean it. I want us linked. Forever. I want to belong to you, want you to belong to me. And you want it too."

"Oh, yes," he whispered. "Never wanted anything more in my life."

"So let's do it."

She was laughing, but he wasn't. His face was very still and awed, his eyes dark with intensity and wonder. He rose, lifting her off her feet, cradling her closely to him.

"If you're sure. Be sure. Because I couldn't bear it if..."

"I'm sure," she said, smiling, and kissed him.

He carried her over to the trap at the back that led to the lower level of his crypt and just stepped off the edge, landing with an easy flex of his knees, then set her down gently beside the bed. They leaned against each other, kissing slowly, their hands stroking away each other's clothes. He was watching her in disbelief and incredulity all the while, even as they kissed, his eyelids heavy and almost closed, but still parted. She laughed and kissed him not just with passion, but with love and tenderness, and felt him shudder, feeling the difference, saw his eyes go helpless and vulnerable.

Tenderness touched something deep within him. He yearned for it. Just as that look in his eyes, that look that said she was the center of his universe, that intensity, touched something deep inside her. She had yearned for _that_, to be loved that much, to know absolutely that he would never leave her, never abandon her, would always be with her, the bulwark at her shoulder, the two of them loving and laughing and fighting side by side forever.

"Make me yours," she murmured.

"Gonna do this right," he muttered. He was smiling now. "What's the hurry?"

They were finally naked and in bed, twisting and coiling about each other, hands and mouths sliding over every inch of each other's bodies.

"I'm greedy."

"I like that." He bit her softly, the light pinpricks of his fangs incredibly arousing, teasing her by not giving her quite what she wanted.

She arched against him. "Want you in me."

"Not yet. Don't want it over so soon."

His eyes had gone yellow and his tongue raspy like a cat's, scouring over her, breasts and belly and thighs, so that she writhed and twisted under him helplessly.

"Oh, God, Spike! Come on!"

"Just a little longer."

She sucked on his throat and felt him shudder. Anywhere on the neck was a trigger point for a vamp.

"You're evil," he muttered, grinning.

She laughed helplessly. "Getting there. Ohh!"

He had retaliated, drawing and sucking on her nipples, pressing them to the roof of his mouth, that raspy tongue hardening them to the point of pain.

"Oh, come on!"

"No."

She was almost beyond thought now, clawing at him, aware of nothing but sensation, the whole world lost, nothing left but him and his hands and his mouth and his body heavy upon her.

"I love you," she said, which was his breaking point.

"Ah, God!"

They both gasped as he came into her hard. She arched against him in triumph, feeling him fill her. Almost too much as always, yet just exactly enough. Perfection. Thrusting and straining against each other and yet struggling to hold back, to make it never end.

Nothing better than this, she thought blindly as he drove into her and his fangs slid into her neck and she felt the singing rapture begin.

Then he whispered, "Mine."

"Yes! Yours!" She bit him too, at the junction of his neck and shoulder, tasted his blood coppery on her tongue. "And you're mine."

"Forever."

And, oh, suddenly it _was_ better, was something she had never dreamed of, was unbelievable. An ultimate joining. Something caught them up, mated them together, their minds sinking into each other as deeply as their bodies were locked, utterly open and surrendered to each other. The link wove them inextricably together in an exaltation that went beyond even that incredible rapture that came when he took her blood. Essences merging, never to be parted..

They both convulsed.

"Oh, God, I thought I'd died," she gasped, coming back to herself an eon later. "I think I blacked out. Never felt anything like that before!"

"Always be like that," he breathed, limp upon her. "From now on."

"We'll never survive it!"

"I'll go happy," he muttered.

She could feel his joy. The link made it vividly clear to her, his happiness and his delight in her, the love and devotion pouring from him in waves.

"I can feel what you're feeling," she said in wonder.

"You always will. Just as I can feel you. God, Buffy!"

She knew that he could feel her own joy and love and utter surrender.

"My heart is so full it hurts," he whispered.

"Mine too."

They held each other tightly a long while.

The crypt door slammed upstairs.

"I don't believe it!" Buffy exclaimed.

"Oh, yeah. All three." He broke into helpless laughter.

She barely had time to yank a sheet over the two of them before Giles and Angel and Xander came thundering down the ladder, Angel flinging off the blanket that had protected him from the sun outside.

"I told you!" yelled Xander. "I told you there was something going on!"

Buffy lay back across Spike, her body slanted so that it covered his chest, just in case either Giles or Xander fired off one of the crossbows they were carrying.

"You're too late," she purred. "You can't kill him now without killing me. We're claimed."

There was an awful silence.

"You didn't!" choked Giles. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did." She waggled her fingers at Angel. "Hey, Angel. Back again with the doing things for my own good. You wouldn't believe how sick I am of that. If I were mean, I'd say that I let this happen because I knew you three would never listen to me. Or believe me when I said I knew what I was doing. No, you'd just force the issue. Kill Spike. For my own good. Well, fuck you, boys. I wasn't gonna let that happen."

She laughed at their horrified faces.

"That's what I would say if I were mean. Make out that it's all your fault. But that wouldn't be the truth. That's just a tiny, tiny part of it. The real reason I chose to do this? I wanted to."

"Buffy!" Giles exclaimed. "How could you!"

"Easy. I love him."

Spike grinned with immense satisfaction at Angel who had gone white as a sheet.

"I learned a few things in that other dimension," said Buffy, smiling. "How not to allow other people to make my decisions for me. How not to let their opinions outweigh my own judgement. How to live my own life. It's very liberating. I think I've finally grown up."

She stretched luxuriously, putting her arms behind her head to wind them around Spike's neck. She felt him smile against her temple.

"You all look as if the apocalypse has come," she remarked. "When actually Spike just saved us from it. So we'll probably be able to take it easy for a while. Spike and I will do the usual patrols while you all get used to the new state of affairs."

"Like your affair with him?" said Xander with loathing.

"Oh, you've got that all wrong, Xand. Ask them. We're not having an affair. We're married."

"Ma...ma..." Xander lost his voice in horror.

"And you really should sit down and take a long, hard look at yourself and what happened in that other dimension. Maybe you'll grow up too."

"Bunch of you can also take yourself off," Spike suggested. "Englishman's home is his castle and all that, vamp or no. Plus, we're kinda naked under here."

All three of them gulped, then turned and stumbled up the ladder again, looking totally beyond any coherent thought.

"This is the best day!" said Spike blissfully, rolling Buffy over to face him and wrapping his arms around her.

"This habit of yours of always being right is really getting to be a pain," said Buffy severely.

"Just love it when you hammer it in and break it off like that. They're never gonna forget this, any of them." He grinned at her. "Running wild, are you? Claws out and all. 'S sexy. Turns me on."

"What doesn't? And if you're making comparisons between me and the Quenya, I'll claw you worse than Serrai ever could."

"Promises, promises," purred Spike and kissed her brainless.

**The End**


End file.
